


Blood Bag

by Ohcassie, SaraPBateman



Series: Dark!Winchesters Universe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Blood Drinking, Cas needs a hug, Castiel Whump, Dark Dean Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Dark!Winchesters, Graceless Castiel, Human Castiel, Kidnapped!Castiel, M/M, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Groping, Slow Burn, They are evil but not THAT evil, Torture, abused!Castiel, hurt!castiel, i'll add more as we go on, noncon not Dean/Cas or Sam/Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8206879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohcassie/pseuds/Ohcassie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraPBateman/pseuds/SaraPBateman
Summary: In the eyes of Sam and Dean, Castiel is just a tool. He is used as bait on a hunt involving vampires, but the brothers seriously misjudge the size of the nest. While the brothers take their time in gathering outside help for the eventual sweep of the nest, Cas is used as a blood bag for the vampires and meets even scarier individuals than the Winchesters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! I will try to post at least weekly, but it might take some time to get used to this. I will make sure I mention any warnings at the beginning of every chapter. I would like to mention that these versions of Sam and Dean are not what I think Sam and Dean are like at all, and I don't see Castiel as a tool. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy!

Castiel has a good view of the sky despite the curtain drawn over the window from his position on the motel floor. The setting sun has painted streaks of purple and pink in the heavens. Castiel can hear Sam and Dean's soft snores coming from the only two beds in the room. They are "catching some shut eye" after driving for almost 24 hours straight. Castiel wishes he could do the same right now, but the cuffs are digging uncomfortably into his wrists where they are attached to the radiator. Not to mention the scratchy carpet that offers very little cushion to Cas's overworked back. Castiel isn't sure which transgression of his was the last straw for the brothers, but he knows his forced atonement, slavery, his mind helpfully  
supplies, is not a punishment that fits the crime.

The heating in this particular motel room had went out, but the Winchesters were too exhausted to care about that. They especially didn't care that while they could wrap themselves in warm blankets, Castiel could only shiver by the cold radiator and thin glass of the window. It certainly didn't help that the only clothing Castiel was ever given was worn socks, used sneakers, thin t-shirts, and ill fitting jeans from re-sale-it shops. It seems that contemplating how bleak your future is can be very tiring, because before he knows it, Castiel is asleep.

 

Around 1 am, Castiel is jolted awake by a bruising kick to his side. As Cas moans in pain and blearily blinks the sleep from his eyes, Sam is unlocking the cuffs and dragging Cas off the hard floor and shoving him into the blinding fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Castiel is left with an order to "Make it quick." and the door slammed shut behind him. He has time to use the toilet and splash the sleep from his face before Dean is dragging him out of the motel by his stretched out shirt collar and forcing him into the freezing backseat of the impala. They head out into the empty roads and Castiel thinks about the cold leather seeping through his jeans and the sound of the ancient heater in the impala sputtering out hot air. Cas is knocked out of his reverie by Sam's fist violently driving into the side of his knee. Cas yelps and turns hurt eyes into glaring green ones in the rear view mirror. 

"You wanna repeat the plan for us, dumbass?"

With a grimace, Cas thinks back to the rundown he was given the day before. 

"I go into the bar and sit near the vampires, order many shots of liquor from the bartender, then initiate a quarrel with at least one of the vampires."  
"And when should you stop taking shots?"  
"When the world is spinning so fast I can't see."  
"Good boy." but there's no emotion behind the praise. 

 

The bar is blessedly warm when Castiel enters the establishment. After a quick scan of the room, Castiel recognizes the vampires to be the two gentlemen sitting at a table near the bar. Gentlemen is a generous explanation, however. One is bald despite his weather-free face suggesting he is young, perhaps mid twenties. He is dressed in similar attire to what Cas would think hunters typically wear and he has an unsettling gleam in his eye and snarl to his lip that makes him exceedingly unapproachable. The second is larger and older than the other, and he has black shoulder length hair that is balding on top. He is dressed as practically as his partner and has a perpetual scowl that makes him look angry and vicious.

Castiel places himself on one of the bar's stools and requests six shots of whisky from the woman tending the bar. She raises a brow, but responds to Castiel's request. Dean had wanted Castiel to start off with a higher number, but Sam reminded him that Cas still has to be able to get off the stool and approach the vampires. Cas soon finds himself harboring an uncomfortable burn in his throat, but the room is also spinning accordingly to Dean's explanation, so Cas lifts himself unsteadily from the stool and stumbles up to the vampires' table. They look up at Castiel with resonating annoyance, and since Cas can't for the life of him remember the words Dean said he should use to anger the monsters, he resorts to swinging his fist and hoping it hits the smaller of the two.

Before his knuckles even reach their target, the bald one catches his wrist and pulls it towards the ground. Castiel finds his forward momentum suddenly doubled and collides with the table. At once, both vampires stand and prepare to deal with this unruly drunk when they are stopped by the irritated voice of the bartender. 

"Okay, boys. At least take it outside. I'm not dealing with this shit tonight."

The two vampires exchange a look over Castiel's sluggish form scrabbling on the table. In silent agreement, they grab a hold of him on either side and drag him outside. A blast of icy wind helps Cas's brain catch up with the situation, and he begins to halfheartedly struggle against the vampires' tight grips. He is brought around the side of a rusted and beat up pickup truck, and is unceremoniously pushed up against the side of the vehicle. The monsters make quick work of binding his wrists and ankles before they lift and shove him into the bed of the truck. Cas hears the loud, tell-tale crinkling of tarp, then is plunged into darkness as the suffocating material is tucked around him. If only the tarp could block out the cold January air.

The truck starts up with a harsh kick, and as the rushing wind makes Castiel colder than he's ever been before, he recognizes through his muddled mind the unmistakable rumble of the impala's engine not too far off. It's ironic that the car that he once thought of as a home is now more like a prison. 

 

The truck finally comes to a halt, and at this point Castiel feels too nauseous and tired to pay attention to the cold. The tarp is ripped away and Castiel is pulled by the fabric of his shirt up and over the sides of the truck bed. Baldy manhandles Castiel over his shoulder and walks briskly into what must be a dilapidated house doubling as the vampires' nest. After a flight of stairs(he couldn't tell you whether it was up or down) Castiel is dropped onto the hard wood floor of a small, square room lit only by a faded yellow bulb in the middle of the ceiling. Before he loses consciousness, Cas notices Baldy pick up a pair of handcuffs attached to a long chain bolted to the center of the room. Great. Another pair of cuffs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: non-con blood drinking

Castiel's feet are freezing. He may go as far to think that he is developing the beginnings of hypothermia on his toes. When Cas woke up to a raging headache and rolling stomach, he was annoyed to discover that his sneakers and socks have been plucked off his feet. His hands are no longer bound behind him but are locked into the cuffs attached to the chain bolted to the floor, and his ankles are untied, pitifully cold where they jut out from his too-short jeans. Castiel is sitting cross legged rubbing the feeling back into his left foot whenever the older vampire from the night before enters the small room. When the monster takes too long to say anything, Cas offers him a murderous glare. 

"You don't look as scared as the others usually do."  
"You don't look as intimidating as the others usually do." It's a lie, but at this point, Castiel is truly done with this situation. 

The large vampire smirks at the comeback and crouches next to Castiel's prone form. 

"Do you know why you're here then, if you're so familiar with my kind?"

This man's breath is putrid. Castiel moves on to rubbing his right foot as he contemplates the question. No, he isn't quite sure what this nest has been doing with all people they've kidnapped. Sam and Dean assumed they've just been turning them, but Castiel is still as human as he was the day he showed up at the bunker in need of help. Castiel also would have assumed that the brothers would have charged the nest by now and killed everything in sight before reclaiming their indentured servant. Cas takes too long to answer the question

"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION." The sudden grip around his throat is inhumanly tight, and the impact of his head hitting the wall has worsened his hangover tenfold. 

"No-!" The vampire adjusts his grip so that his hand that was once around Castiel's throat moves to his hair, and his other hand grips the collar of his t-shirt. He wrenches Castiel's head to the side and roughly pulls the fabric towards the former angel's shoulder, effectively baring his throat.

"Let me give you a little hint." Without any warning, the vampire reveals his fangs and sinks them into junction where Cas's neck and shoulder meet. The slow withdrawal of Castiel's blood makes him dizzy. After an agonizing minute, the vampire retracts his fangs from Castiel's flesh and lets him slump to the floor. Cas turns glassy eyes to the looming monster. 

"....Are you going to turn me?" The vampire chuckles at Castiel's train of thought.  
"Good guess, but you haven't quite hit the mark."

Castiel's head swims as the vampire returns him to an upright position, leaning against the wall. He watches the vampire swipe excess blood off his chin and savor the taste again. 

"There's something different about you. Tastes sweet." The vampire pushes off the floor and stands to his full height.  
"You'll be our most popular blood bag yet."

Dread washes over Castiel as he listens to the monster laugh and leave the room. He's going to be kept in this nest and leeched on by who knows how many vampires. The man didn't even tend to the vicious bite he made on Castiel. He's sure he won't taste as sweet if his blood is riddled with infection. Anemia is also a very possible threat. Cas was already on the borderline of malnourishment when he was under the care of the Winchesters. If the vampires take too much without providing him with the necessary supplements, Castiel won't last long.

Castiel can't hope to think Sam and Dean will hasten their attack on the nest just because he is in danger. A familiar burn begins to tinge his eyes. Every time he thinks about how the brothers have treated him since he has become human, he feels a familiar ache in his chest that makes its way to his throat and behind his eyes. He's tried to name the emotion, but its actually a horrible combination of many. Sadness, despair, loneliness, loss. It's not the abuse and neglect doled out by the brothers that hurts him the most, but it's the active distrust and feelings of betrayal that led to Castiel's servitude in the first place. If only he knew what finally tipped Sam and Dean over the edge, he might be able to correct his errors. The Winchesters will hardly even look at Cas anymore, and when they do pay him any attention, it's to order him around or verbally attack him. 

There are no windows in the room, and Cas had no way of keeping track of the passing time while he was unconscious. His best guess is that it's been a few hours. Sam and Dean are already late, but should be preparing to attack very shortly, at least within the next day. Castiel takes one last look at the ripped flesh on his shoulder before he slides down the wall and pulls his chained hands close to his body. He curls his legs closer in an attempt to conserve body heat in the cold room, then lets the rhythm of his pounding headache lull him to sleep.

 

 

"Hey. Uh. Guy?" Castiel is still dead weight despite Baldy's incessant poking. He resorts to lifting the heavy chain and letting it clatter to the wooden floor noisily. Finally, Castiel's eyes blink open. 

"Hey, you awake? How ya feelin'?"

Baldy is crouched over Castiel with a look of concern that seems wildly out of place. 

"Why should it concern you," Cas is still silently reeling from his rude awakening. He couldn't have been resting for long. He doesn't think he is quite ready for another round of exsanguination so soon. 

"It looks like Paul already got to ya. He's pretty rough around the edges, so I figured he didn't wrap ya up any. I guess I was right." Baldy pulls some type of ointment and white bandaging from his jacket pocket. 

"If you could just sit up, I can get that taken care of for ya."

The vampire's kind demeanor contrasts suspiciously with his rough actions at the bar. However, Castiel isn't going to turn away his only form of help. With limited use of his arms, it takes him a second, but eventually Cas is once again propped against the wall. Baldy carefully unsticks the loose shirt collar from the wound and pulls it so it hangs off Castiel's shoulder.

"We're supposed to take good care of our blood bags, but Paul can never be bothered to do anything but feed from 'em." Baldy squeezes a good amount of ointment into his palm before he swipes his finger through the glob and gingerly dabs it onto the nasty wound. Castiel grimaces from the slight sting. 

"So this nest has multiple...blood bags?" Baldy finishes coating the bite with the jelly and begins unrolling the gauze. 

"Six right now includin' you. Can't be attackin' and draining folks all the time. That'd make the local authorities suspicious. And there's too many vamps in this house to always be huntin' game. We'd damn near deplete the populations in these woods."

Baldy starts wrapping the gauze over Castiel's wound, under his armpit, and across his chest under his other armpit to create a wrap that securely covers the bite. Cas's t-shirt is uncomfortable where it's trapped under the bandages, but he'd rather this than to be made to give away one of his few sources of warmth. Baldy continues his spiel. 

"Blood bags make livin' a little easier for my kind." Castiel bristles at the term.  
"I'm not a bag." Baldy chuckles at the admission, but Castiel doesn't see what is so funny about stating the obvious. 

"No, you sure ain't." The vampire reaches into his other pocket and hands Castiel a granola bar and a tin foil square encasing two small blue pills. 

"Make sure you eat this and take these. Like I said, we take care of our blood bags." Baldy reaches to run a hesitant finger over a faded bruise under Castiel's eye before picking himself up off the floor. 

"You get some rest, blue eyes, and I'll see if I can find a bottle of water for ya."

As the door clicks shut, Castiel looks down at the granola bar and pills. He unwraps the bar and begins munching on it while he inspects the pills. He can't know for sure what kind of pills they are, but the vampire seemed to stress the importance of good health for the "blood bags", so he swallows them dry and tries not to think about the monster's dry finger stroking his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a relatively short fic, but I plan on writing more stories that revolve around Cas's servitude to the Winchesters. Some fics will be darker than others. If that's the kind of thing that floats your boat, then stay tuned. Thanks for reading the second chapter! Don't hesitate to give kudos and comment:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon groping, noncon kissing, noncon blood drinking  
> Heed the warnings guys, it ain't gonna be pretty.

The bite on Castiel's shoulder aches worse than his head at the moment. However, the bandages and pills certainly helped. The water Baldy brought him has soothed his upset stomach as well. He still isn't sure how to process the level of kindness Baldy showed him. Living with the Winchesters almost made him forget what it was like to be treated gently.

The handle to the door turns and Castiel snaps to a more alert state. A woman, presumably another vampire, slinks through the doorway and shuts the door behind her. Her eyes rake over Castiel's form on the floor and she lets out a low whistle. 

"Looks like Paul and Junior got quite the catch,"

If Castiel had to guess, this vampire looks to be in her mid-fifties. Although she is probably much older than what she looks. She doesn't look incredibly fit, perhaps a result from not having to hunt for her own meals, and her skin looks rough and aged from too much time spent in the sun and maybe even narcotics. Her eyes are a dull grey and her hair is frizzy and brown with evidence of greying peeking out at her roots. 

"We never get blood bags as good lookin' as you, honey." She saunters past the bolted chain in the floor to stand over Castiel. 

"What? You just gonna sit there? Stand up and lemme' get a good look at you." She places her hands on her wide hips and raises an eyebrow at Castiel expectantly. Confused, Cas looks up at her, the door, then back at her before he lowers his eyes and climbs unsteadily to his feet. His head immediately starts swimming. The chain is not quite long enough to allow him to stand straight, so he resorts to keep his shoulders rolled forward and back hunched. 

"Mm-mm, you look good enough to eat, sweetheart. You definitely aren't from around these parts" Castiel feels like he's being picked apart as the vampire touches his hair, runs her thumb along his stubbly cheek, and fits her stubby hand around his bicep. She gives him an annoyed look as he unconsciously ducks away from her roaming hands. 

"I'd be much more comfortable if I could sit, opposed to stand, while you fed from me." Castiel doesn't want to risk a head injury by falling to the floor from an upright position. 

The vampire snorts derisively. 

"You think I care about your comfort? That's actually pretty cute." She draws closer and closer until Castiel's back is pressed against the wall. Even then, she scoots closer to Cas as she rubs one of her hands down his forearm and the other rests against his face, pointer finger gliding back and forth over his left ear. Castiel furrows his eyebrows. 

"Uh-" her thin lips smash against Castiel's and he lets out a startled noise. Her hand moves down his face and settles in a tight grip at his jaw. Cas lifts his chained hands in an effort to push the monster away. Despite his lips being tightly sealed, the vampire kisses and licks enthusiastically over Castiel's mouth. He finally wrestles his chin out of her bruising grip and dashes to the side as far as his length of chain will allow. 

"Stay away from me! I may be a living, breathing food source trapped in this room, but I won't stand here and let you-"

Suddenly, the vampire is back on him, crushing him against the wall as she sinks her teeth deep into the side of his neck. Cas startles and cries out, pushing weekly against the iron wall that is her body pressed against his. She is latched onto his neck much longer than Paul had been, and Cas is certain that she is withdrawing blood at a faster rate as well. When Castiel is just on the verge of consciousness, the vampire steps away and lets him fall heavily to the floor. 

"I don't know how it's possible, honey, but you taste as sweet as you look," 

The world is spinning drastically as Castiel lays limp and groaning. Her words barely register, but he feels her hands all over again. On his neck and chest, on his hips and over his groin. Her hands, they smooth over his thighs and under his knees, moving them to make room for her between them. He is panicking now, he knows. Maybe he will hyperventilate and he can escape this frightening moment. 

"Shh-sh. It's alright, baby. Let momma show you how good you can feel."

Castiel isn't really seeing anything. The vampire smirks as she watches his innocent blue eyes roll around in their sockets. With one hand, she trails it over the expanse hidden under Cas's t-shirt. With the other, she unbuttons and unzips her jeans. She leans forward and takes Castiel's bound hands and promptly shoves one of his hands into her underwear.

"Yeah, baby. You feel that? You feel how excited you got momma?"

The angle is awkward due to Cas's hands being cuffed and it being the back of his hand that is being rubbed over her genitals, but the vampire doesn't have the key so she'll take what she can get. 

The vampire grinds herself into Castiel's hand and she leans down to swallow his pained and confused groans. His mouth is instantly filled with the bitter taste of his own blood. After several minutes, the vampire reaches down to check if her ministrations have aroused Castiel at all. She fumbles with his button and zipper before reaching into his boxers and finds soft, vulnerable flesh. Castiel whimpers at the foreign touch then yelps as she viciously squeezes his limp penis and balls. 

"Am I not enough for you? Huh?" With her free hand, the vampire lands a bruising slap over the side of Castiel's face. 

"You always a useless limp-dick?" She brutally twists and backhands simultaneously, wringing a shrieking cry from Castiel. 

His reaction turns the vampire on even more and she starts grinding into Castiel's hand with renewed enthusiasm. She doesn't hear the door click open. 

"Lynette! You stop that!"

Lynette turns her head to find Junior standing in the doorway. She smiles a crooked grin. 

"Oh c'mon, Junior. You haven't brought one back this handsome in awhile," she emphasizes her point by thrusting down on Castiel's hand and letting out a loud, wanton moan. Lynette laughs wickedly at her own actions before she is suddenly yanked off of Castiel and shoved toward the door. She turns to glare at Junior. 

"The hell's gotten into you, Junior? Huh?" Junior looks down at Castiel's disheveled form before answering Lynette. 

"Go feed off a different blood bag from now on. I don't want to catch you in here again, Lyn, I mean it." Lynette scoffs and mumbles that Junior can go fuck himself before exiting the room. 

Getting his anger in check, Junior takes a deep breath then turns and kneels next to Castiel. He feels his pulse and finds it to be slightly weak, but steady. Then, he inspects Lynette's bite. Junior hisses at the goriness of it. It's deeper than Paul's and much more ragged, like she was chewing on Castiel's neck. 

Castiel's eyelids are drooping, but his blue eyes search through the fog of his brain to see who his savior is. Junior's heart clenches at the pitiful sight and he begins murmuring reassurances to Castiel. He does up Castiel's fly and pulls down his thin t-shirt so the soft skin of the former angel's belly is no longer bare to the chilly room. 

Junior removes the roll of gauze from his jacket pocket and sets about gently wrapping the soft fabric around Castiel's neck. The vampire glances at Cas's face and find finds eyes brimming with tears firmly locked on on his. His voice is strained with the effort of holding back the floodgates, but Castiel speaks to Junior. 

"Thank y- thank you," Castiel can't take this pattern of cruelty followed by kindness. He'd rather be with the Winchesters where at least he knew what to expect day in and day out. Sam and Dean may have stripped away his sense of self, but one perverted vampire was able to strip away his dignity within a matter of minutes.

As Junior finishes wrapping the wound, Castiel's chin wobbles and a stray tear escapes his eye. Junior frowns and wipes the tear back into Cas's hairline. He goes about smoothing the dark strands of hair away from Castiel's sweaty brow as the former angel hiccups pitifully.

"What she did....that wasn't right."

"None of this is right." Castiel croaks. 

Junior halts his petting of Cas's hair, and Castiel holds his breath, waiting for Junior's reaction. To Castiel's relief, Junior just give's his hair one last smooth over before getting up and silently leaving the room. 

Castiel draws in a shaky breath and covers his face with his hands. He holds his breath in his chest for a moment before letting it go in a litany of hitching sobs. Cas lays on his back sobbing into his chained hands until blood loss and exhaustion pull him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cas. Let me know what you think so far:)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No warnings:)

"It was an old chevy. It tailed us all the way from the bar to here." Paul tries to keep the concern out of his voice, but another run-in with hunters is the last thing he needs. The head of the nest sits comfortably behind a desk cluttered with papers. He looks out the window as if the car would still be there and sniffs loudly. 

"Any hunters that would see the size of this nest would think twice about raiding it. There's safety in numbers, Paul. We outnumber any ragtag group of hunters that could stick together long enough without killing each other first."

The head of the nest eyes Paul after an uncomfortable moment of silence. Paul fidgets a bit before speaking again. 

"The blood bag we got the other night, he doesn't act like the other blood bags."

The head of the nest narrows his eyes. 

"What does that supposed to mean?"

"It means that he wasn't scared or freaked out when we put him in that room. Hell, he didn't even fight back when we took him!" Paul exhales and runs a hand through his greasy scalp. 

"This the bag that you brought back the same night the car tailed you?" The head of the nest leaned forward in anticipation of Paul's answer. After a confirming nod, he continued. 

"Then what we have in that room is bait. Watch your back these next couple of weeks. Let me know if you notice anything, Paul."

"Sure thing, Boss." 

 

 

Castiel estimates it's been about a day since the incident with Lynette. When he awoke from his blood loss-induced unconsciousness, he found that someone had graciously left him a few items. Two bottles of water, three granola bars, a whole roll of gauze, and a bottle of iron supplement pills. The bottle only held two pills. Castiel guesses they don't want him attempting any kind of suicide. After changing his bandages and enjoying his light meal of water, granola, and pills, Castiel jolted at the sound of the door clicking open. 

Castiel curls in on himself a little tighter as the door opens to reveal Junior toting a folded metal thing and a long cushion. Junior offers Castiel's confused look a shy smile as he sets the oversized cushion down and goes about unfolding the metal contraption. Castiel watches with growing curiosity as Junior pushes the cot into the corner of Cas's tiny closet and sets the worn cushion on the cot. 

"I figure the ground ain't too comfortable to sleep on." Junior takes a hesitant step away from the cot. Castiel observes that he is nervous about what his reaction to it might be. He studies the rickety bed then levels a grateful look at Junior. 

"Thank you. That's very kind of you." A crooked smile cracks over Juniors face. "Well, uh, it's the least I could do. You know, show a little hospitality..." Castiel falters a bit at Junior's admission. Why was this vampire worried about showing hospitality when he brought him here against his will? However, maybe he could use Junior's apparent fondness for Castiel to his favor. 

"Junior," Castiel's use of the man's name brought the angel Junior's full attention. "If I may...ask. Is there a chance that, uh, you would let me go? Soon?" A frown appeared on Junior's face, and Castiel almost regretted asking his question. Junior dropped his gaze to the floor and wrung his hands together. "That ain't really up to me." Castiel's shoulders slumped. Looks like he couldn't rely on the pity of a stranger after all. Maybe he just needed to amp up the pity. 

"Can I tell you something?" Junior's head snapped up as Cas's voice suddenly filled the small space. Junior nodded his confirmation as he took a seat on the cot. Castiel looked down at his chained hands, suddenly shy about the words he was about to speak. 

"It's not an accident that you and...your friend took me from the bar that night." Castiel quickly glanced up and caught Junior's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What do ya mean?" Cas adjusted his position on floor, relieving some of the pressure off his legs that had been curled beneath him. 

"I-I'm sure you're familiar with hunters...?" A dark look passed over Junior's features. "It's hard not to be. Bein' a vamp and all." Cas nodded at him. "Yes, yes. Well, that night I was forced into that bar by hunters. I-In fact, I'm as much their prisoner as am...yours...right now." The dark look never left Junior, and he sat up straighter on the cot, taking in Cas's words. Cas held his breath, hoping he had read Junior right. Junior arose from the cot and knelt in front of Castiel. Junior raised his hand brushed his knuckles over a faded bruise high on Cas's cheek. Cas couldn't stifle his flinch. 

"Those hunters won't get to you. I won't let anything get to you." Castiel watched with a guarded expression as the vampire stood again and promptly left the room. He berated himself for revealing the Winchesters' plans. He counted on Junior feeling more inclined to release him out of pity. He should have known his admission would only make the vampire more protective of him, and less inclined to let him go. 

Castiel grabbed a granola bar and pulled himself on to the cot. He sat and ate the snack, wondering what he would do if he did one day find himself free in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point forward the chapters will be authored by SaraPBateman! She also is the sole reason why I was able to crank this chapter out. Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos and comments:)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Non-consensual blood drinking. Written by SaraPBateman. Beta'd by Ohcassie.

The handcuffs were really starting to chafe. The skin had broken and blood was dripping down his wrists and chains (as if he could afford to lose more blood). Cas couldn't explain it, but a strange bubble of happiness seemed to be rising inside of him. It was probably due to the fact that he was extremely lightheaded. White spots were swimming in front of his eyes and a soft buzzing was echoing in his ears.

"Like bees" he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and imagined a field of gorgeous wildflowers. It was warm. He almost felt like he was out in the sun, like it was beaming down on him. It smelled amazing, like pollen, grass, honey, flowers, freedom. It was warm like summer. It was like he was relaxing in a valley. It was really warm...really warm...It was hot. He is sweating.

His eyes shot open as realized how warm it had gotten. Was the building on fire? It took him a minute to realize that it was not the room that had gotten so hot, but him. His infected bite must have triggered a fever. His mouth felt extremely dry, and his throat clicked when he tried to swallow. It felt like thousands of wasps had somehow found their way in and stung him over and over. The elated feeling from earlier had turned into nausea. He tried to close his eyes and relax his mind like before, but his body was so sweaty and he felt like throwing up. He tried to occupy his mind with something else, maybe...what he would do if he ever got out. Out of where? Out of the nest? Or--

He was startled out of his train of thought by the door to his closet being thrown open. It slammed against the wall and the sound of it vibrated in his skull and caused his head to throb painfully. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut, but that caused his eyes to burn and see bright stars. He could hear voices in the background...arguing? No, just talking loudly, too loud. He tried focusing on what they were saying, "...burning up, sweetheart."..."Yeah, we've got to tell Jen, she can get him some antibiotics, then his blood'll taste good as new."

"I don't mind a little hot blood, I just want to know what all the fuss is about. Is it the face? He is really something isn't he?"

"Yeah, he’s pretty. You should have seen Lynette! When he first got here, she attacked him. You know how it goes with her. I don't know what the problem with Junior is, though. He keeps talking about it like she did something wrong."

By now, Castiel was fully awake and watching the two vampires. One he remembered from the night he was taken, the other he never recalls meeting. The one he recognizes was wearing the same hunter-getup like before, except now he was brandishing a riding crop, and reeked of cow manure, which also caked his shoes. His skinny figure was more noticeable since he had his shirt unbuttoned for a reason Cas didn’t want to think about. The other vampire looked completely out of place. She was wearing a dress of some sort, the kind Castiel has seen girls on television wear when Dean would channel surf. She looked like she was from the city. Her hair looks well groomed, and her...face-paint?...yes, he thinks that’s what it’s called. Her face-paint looks very sophisticated.

The recognizable vampire suddenly says, "I wouldn't drink his blood now, though, the infection will probably make it taste like shit." The woman steps closer to Castiel anyway. "I know how it works, Paul. I’ve been around far longer than you have." So the man was Paul...huh. Castiel now noticed that she smelled very nice and her hands had long nails that were colored brown...that's not natural. Castiel then remembered that some humans did that, they would paint their nails, or put nails on their nails.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I was just saying you wouldn't get the full taste, you know?" Castiel mustered enough bravery to speak up.

"Junior can bring me some antibiotics..."

Paul makes a derisive noise. "Junior? Are you kidding? That asshole won’t come anywhere near the bags for more than a minute, and if they are sick, he avoids them. That’s forsure."

"That's not true. He always brings me food and supplies. He told me he takes care of the humans here...?” Paul scoffed at that. "Really?" Paul looked at Castiel and raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, that's enough.” Mina interrupts. “I’m hungry, and you need to go get Jen."

"Fine, I'll be right back with Nurse Ratchet, bag. Oh, and Mina, the boss wants to talk to you before you leave."

Without a second look, Paul turned and left, leaving Mina and Castiel alone. “Alright, now, this won’t hurt unless you make it hurt.” She stepped closer and gently put her hands on his chest. She slowly stroked them upwards until her fingers were around his jaw. Cas couldn’t stop his heart from racing. But...her hands...they felt cool...and soft. He felt like he wanted to melt in them. He looked up into her eyes and it felt like he just wanted to dissolve in them. She was absolutely mesmerizing. She felt so soft. Everything about her was soft; her body, her hair, her breath.

She leaned forward until her mouth was pressed right under his jaw, and for some reason, he couldn’t help but tilt his chin up. He couldn’t control his body as it opened up to her. His eyes widened as he realized he couldn’t move or even try to push her away. He felt her lips part against his neck, felt sharp teeth resting against his skin, not yet piercing, waiting. He took a deep breath, and her scent filled his nose. She smelled so amazing...like lilies, like cotton, like rain. His eyes fluttered shut. She smelled like....she smelled like paradise. Like heaven. She smelled like heaven.

Head tilted back, his tears slowly dripped and fell down his temples to find home in his hair. His eyes stung as images of home flashed in front of them. Her hands began stroking his sides and caressing his arms. His body fully relaxed and he found himself at peace. He finally realized she had bit him. He could feel his blood leave his body and flow into hers, but he did not feel pain. He did not feel like he was being drained of his life source, but like he was being worshipped. Like she was somehow loving him. Like she wanted to be one with him.

A fluttering feeling spread in his chest as he completely relaxed and enjoyed the ride. He felt her teeth pull out and her tongue lick his neck. She pulled away and smiled at him. “Now that wasn’t so bad was it, honey?” Her mouth was now stained red, as if she were wearing red lipstick. He noticed something strange about her teeth. They did not look like normal vampire teeth, but like her canines had simply overgrown. She looked extremely attractive….and human. A shudder ran through his body as drank in the sight of her.

She stood up and her heels click on the floor as she walked away. His eyes stayed glued to the space she had been occupying. As the effects she had on him wore off, he felt the fever come back full force. Cas groaned as he tried to turn over in his bed. He was startled to find Junior standing in the doorway staring at him. His heart was still fluttering as he whispered “Hello, Junior.” Junior slowly drew near, eyes never leaving Castiel. “Hey there. How you feeling?” He pressed his hand to Castiel’s forehead. “You’re really burnin’ up. Don't worry, I’ll go out right now and get some medicine. I have some errands to run, so it might take me awhile. I'll be back real quick, though. Alright?”

“How long?” Cas’s voice was hoarse.

“How long will I be out? For a couple hours-”

“No...how long have I been here?” Junior hesitated. “Um...about a week. We brought you here about six days ago? Yeah, six days ago.”

Castiel's stomach sank. His eyes fluttered shut as terrible thoughts crossed his mind.

“Alright, I'll be back soon, buddy.” He stroked Castiel's sweaty hair on his way out of the room.

The Winchesters must have left. It's been a week, the typical amount of time that passes before Sam and Dean “skip town” as they say. They left him for the vampires...left him for dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to SaraPBateman! This is her writing debut:) Chapter 6 is written and will be posted within the next week. Leave a comment if you enjoyed the chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No major warnings for this chapter. Written by SaraPBateman and beta'd by Ohcassie. Enjoy:)

“We should just skip town and send in a few of Bobby’s contacts.” Sam murmured as he watched a familiar truck leave the driveway of the abandoned plantation. Dean counted 60 seconds after the truck had passed before starting the Impala and following it, headlights off. “Nah, we can’t just leave.” he murmured to Sam. Sam’s angry reply was immediate, “Why? Because we can’t leave Cas behind? That dick is probably comfortable and buddy-buddy with all the vampires by now. How long do you think it will take for him to sell us out to them? Pfft, he probably already has.”

“Sam it’s not for Cas, I swear. It's because I-we don’t back down from any fight, and I’ve been itching to gank something. You know, he probably did tell him about us, because every time this truck leaves, then we leave, next time we come back there’s more vamps.” Sam took a second to process Dean’s theory.

“You think they know we’re watching and are leaving just to divert us?” Dean pulled back on the defensive reins, seeing that the look of anger on his brother’s face is replaced by deep thought.

“Yeah. You remember that hot vampire chick we saw today? Did you notice that she was already here when we got back from trailing the truck?” Sam glances at him with a skeptical look. “Are you sure? I mean, we did see that black Camero come in after we got there-”

“Yeah, no, I would have noticed if she was in that car. That chick is gorgeous. I think I would have remembered if I saw her coming in.” Sam laughed, “Dean, the Camero’s windows were tinted. She could have just been hiding in there.” Dean shook his head, “No man, my eyes are just naturally drawn to beautiful women, and I can assure you that I would have noticed her from a mile away.” Sam rolled his eyes, and hummed, “Alright, Rasputin. So...what? She showed up after we were gone? She was the only one, and just because she arrived while we were gone once doesn't mean that they are all sneaking in while we're gone.” Dean sighed dramatically and shrugged dramatically. “I don't know man, I just have this feeling.”

Dean steered the Impala onto a ramp and merged onto the highway.  “I’m getting really bored of this fugly town and the creepy-as-shit forest next to it.” Dean made a disgusted face just thinking about it. Sam sighed, “That's why I think we should just leave.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Like I said, I’m not leaving ‘til I kill something. I think I'll start chewing furniture if I don't get to stab or shoot something here soon.” Sam shifted in his seat to face the window more. “Fine, we'll look at the soul scroll right after this and come up with a plan.” Dean nodded in understanding and simply drove on.

***************************

Castiel woke up feeling like he had embraced death, like he was on his descent to Hell...that thought made him feel...he didn’t know what this feeling was. It was so painful, and it sprang from the fact that if he were to fall to hell, there would be no one to save him. No one to raise him from perdition. 

He thought about Dean, and the way it felt to finally reach his soul under all those layers of Hell. The way his grace and every atom of his being sang; it made him feel even worse. Had he simply turned and fled as fast as possible...but, could he have left? Could that have been possible? He was created to save, follow, and obey the Righteous Man...but also Heaven, which has placed him in quite the dilemma. He disobeyed Heaven when Dean asked him to rebel, for which he was punished. Yet, here he is, being punished now as a result of disobeying his Righteous Man and placing his bets with Heaven. He recalls a lie he once told Dean. “...I certainly do not serve you…”, he almost laughs at the irony. Maybe that was the beginning of the end. The beginning of his inevitable fall. 

The squeaking of his prison’s door pulled him out of his painful thoughts. As he turned to look at the source of the sound, his entire body erupted with burning aches. The pain was almost too much to handle. He slowly opened his eyes to observe the intruder, only to squeeze them shut once more as said intruder jerks the handcuffs, causing Castiel excruciating  amounts of pain. A thrill passed through Cas as his left hand was uncuffed. “Dean?” He opened his eyes, and when the white dots finally disappeared from his vision, his stomach twisted as he took in the dull-grey hue of Paul’s eyes. He swallowed down the bile that threatened to climb up his throat as he realized his mistake. To his relief, Paul answered with a dismissive, “What was that?” Castiel, being the terrible liar that he is, replied with a delayed, wide-eyed, and very un-casual “N-nothing!” He followed it up with a nervous gulp. 

Paul looked at the former angel, suspicion written on his features. “Really, now?” Castiel is about to further attempt to cover for himself when, to his relief, Paul interrupts him. “Nevermind. Just shut up. Everyone is sleeping and you need to stay quiet. And if you’re not, you’re gonna lose your goddamn head.” Castiel nodded as Paul roughly pulled him up by his wrists. Cas can’t stifle the involuntary groan of pain.

Finally on their feet, Castiel, with tears in his eyes, offered a defiant glare to Paul. He whispered, “Where are you taking me?” Paul shushed him and put another pair of cuffs on him. Paul leaned in, lips nearly touching Cas’s ear. “Out. You wanna see the sun a little, don’t ya? And the sky?” Castiel turned and let his glare melt into a look of gratitude. He nodded with a bit of apprehension. Paul smiled and put his left hand at the small of his back, turning Cas so that he faced the open the door. He put his right hand on Cas’s shoulder, then leaned in once more, whispering, “Alright, then let’s go,”

Castiel was guided out into a short hall-way, down a flight of stairs, and into another longer hallway. They entered a lounge, which he noted was very much warmer than the hallway or the upstairs. The heat was stifling, and he quickly realized the heat was due to the amount of sleeping bodies in the room. He counted over thirteen vampires. He recognized the bald head of Junior, laying on one of the lounges. He stopped to look more closely, and noticed that Junior’s clothes were covered in someone else’s blood. 

Castiel felt a palm slap across his mouth as he was twisted around and dragged out of the room. The rough manhandling irritated his many injuries. As he desperately struggled in Paul’s hold, his eyes fell on Junior, who was watching him with an apologetic look on his face. They left the room and he was being dragged down another long hallway. They stopped briefly, and Paul pulled one hand off of Castiel’s chest, leaving his right hand tightly clasped over Castiel’s mouth, using it to hold Cas in place against his chest. Paul used his free hand to pull out a piece of black cloth, which cas recognized as an old pouch-bag of sorts, he recalls Dean calling it a kidnap-sack. Castiel became angry and was able to pull away from Paul.

Eyes glaring daggers, he hissed, “You told me I would see the sun!” Paul looked confused briefly, but then smiled and raised his hands, “Yeah, but first I gotta to cover your head, then I’ll can take it off when we get to a safe place.” Castiel furrowed his brows, trying to understand Paul’s logic. He had to ask, “Why would you need to cover my head in a dangerous place? That sounds more hazardous. I would not know where I am going.” Paul put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders reassuringly, and said, “True, but I’m only putting it on you so that if any of the other vamps see us, I could just say I’m transporting for the Boss.” Castiel, cocked his head at Paul, “You are doing this behind your superior's back?” Paul nodded, causing Castiel to frown, and reply with, “That’s very kind and brave of you.” 

Paul stepped back and gestured his hands out to the side. “See? Nothing to worry about.” Paul then quickly turned Castiel around and covered his head with the kidnap-sack, and tightened the strings around Castiel’s neck. They walked 5 steps(Castiel counted) to a metal door. When it is opened, Castiel can feel the winter chill on his skin. His heart rate picks up. They walk a fair distance through cold snow before Castiel heard Paul pull open another door. 

Castiel is suddenly shoved violently through the door. Cas yelps and catches himself on the cold floor. Fiery pain laces up his wrist. He’s dragged a few feet by his shirt collar, which digs into the bite wounds on his neck. Panic sets in, and he feels ice cold in his stomach as his cuffs are jerked upwards. He feels himself get pulled higher and higher by his wrists. The sack is finally ripped off of his head, and he is able to take in his surroundings. 

Cas is balancing on his toes, hanging by his bloody wrists, and feeling extremely stupid. Castiel looked up at Paul, eyes pleading. “Why did you do this? You didn’t have to lie to me. I would have went with you anyways! You know I wouldn’t have been able to fight you off, so why did you choose to trick me?” He watched as Paul wrapped the chain that Castiel’s cuffs were hanging off of onto a hook. He walked around Castiel and opened the door to the outside; cold air blew in and bit into Castiel’s wounded shoulders and neck. Castiel twisted and turned, desperately trying to get a glimpse of the outside, but the chain held him too high, and pulled too hard on his wrists for him to turn enough to catch a glance. 

The smell of animal feces, spoiled milk, and rotten eggs wafted into his nose, followed by the overwhelming scent of moldy hay. Anger surged through him as he realized that he hadn’t even gotten a single breath of fresh air between the vampire’s nest and the old barn he now found himself in. Full of rage, he was ready to confront Paul, despite his bindings, and unleash the wrath of Heaven. However, Castiel’s rage turned into fear when Paul wheeled in a sizable metal box. He was suddenly extremely aware of his vulnerable position. 

“See this? This here is my trusty toolbox. I use it to fix things all over this here estate. It always comes in handy when something needs fixin’. Now, I’m gonna fix you.” Castiel swallowed, realizing how much the box on the cart reminded him of the cart he had brought in for Dean to torture Alastair with. 

“What do you mean? I am not...broken.” Paul smiled at him dangerously, “See that’s the problem.” He pulled out a wrench from the box and stepped up to Castiel. “They say, ‘don’t fix it if it's not broken,’ I say, ‘if it's not broken, it needs fixing.’” Paul shifts the weight of the wrench in his hand and moved into Castiel’s space. “You, my friend,” Paul says as he points at Castiel with the head of the giant wrench. As a second thought, he shoves it under Castiel’s chin, “You need breaking” Castiel wasn’t able to control a shiver as Paul slid the heavy wrench down Castiel’s chest and to the side, slowly, until it was against Castiel’s ribs. He pulls his hand away, and Castiel's shuts his eyes as Paul swings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this chapter:)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of violence. Lots of whump. Thanks for reading:) Written by SaraPBateman. Beta'd by Ohcassie.

Castiel heard a scream that was loud and full of pain. It took him a moment to realize it was his own scream. He opened his eyes to see the lights of the barn around him flicker. A horrible fire that suddenly erupted from his bottom row of ribs made Castiel black out briefly. Eventually, he looked at Paul, who was looking around with an annoyed expression on his face. 

“Aw, Hell! I told Junior to get the electricity fixed in this damn barn. I swear to god, one morning, we’ll come in here and see all the animals frozen to death. Well, I’m gonna go fix that real quick and get you a gag. Don’t want you screamin’ too loud and wakin’ everybody up, now do we?” Uninterested in the vampires problems, Castiel only groans in reply. “That’s right. Now don’t you go anywhere...wait a minute.” Paul stepped closer and lifted Castiel’s shirt, “You’re bleedin’...Shit! I do not need you dyin’ on me, and you won’t be able to talk if you have a punctured lung, so…” Paul touched the wound roughly feeling for any broken ribs. “Oh, thank god. Seems like I just broke your skin, no worries. Come to think of it, we have a cop here, and I don’t think he needs his kevlar vest anymore. I’m sure he won’t mind letting me use it.” 

While Paul left to run his few errands, Castiel observed his surroundings. Castiel looked straight ahead as the lights of the barn continued to flicker. Truthfully, there wasn’t much to look at. As the initial shock of pain dissipated from his body, fear began replacing it. What had he done wrong to deserve this? He looked at the rafters above him. There were five long rafters that he could see, each rafter having two supporting beams. Ten supporting beams in total. He noticed the lights of the barn stopped flickering, and cold fear crept in as he realized that Paul must have finished fixing the barn’s wires. He felt himself start shaking, so he began counting the stalls in the barn in an attempt to comfort himself. 

The door to the barn creaked open, and cold air filled the space. “All set n’ ready now.” Paul walked in holding a black vest and a rag with odd stains on it. “Open wide.” Castiel looked at him warily. “That looks very dirty, I thi-mmph!” the rag tasted like blood and sweat, and it made Castiel want to throw up. Paul walked around and started velcroing the vest onto Castiel tightly. Once again, he picked up the wrench. 

“You and me, we’re gonna play some games, but first I’m gonna lay out some ground rules.” He swung the wrench at Castiel again, this time, hitting him on the other side of his ribs. Castiel screwed his eyes shut and screamed into the gag, dull pain quickly climbing into his chest. “Ya see, you’re mine. You understand?” He swung again, this time hitting Castiel on the opposite side of where his heart is. “You understand!?” as Paul repeated his question, he pulled the gag out of Castiel’s mouth. Castiel hadn’t realized that he was crying until he tasted his tears. “Yes!” was all he could manage before Paul swung a fourth time, hitting him cruelly on his thigh. Paul quickly pressed his hand to his mouth, stifling Castiel’s scream. “Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. From now on, you will keep quiet. Cuz’ you’re mine and you’ll listen to, and obey me. You are mine. Do you understand?” 

Castiel looked at him pleadingly, big blue eyes shimmering with tears. Paul removes his hand, expecting an answer. “Yes, I understand...” Paul made a show of looking disappointed. Shaking his head, he reprimanded, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Wrong answer.” He shoved the rag back in its place and swung again, this time at Castiel’s back. “You are mine! I hold your pain!” Paul stepped closer until their faces were only inches apart. “And...I hold your pleasure. I control you. Do you understand?” 

He pulled the gag from Castiel’s mouth again. Castiel’s lips trembled as he tried to think of an answer. “Yes, I-” Paul began to shake his head, and panic made Castiel tremble harder. “No, wait! Wait-” the gag was shoved back in place. Paul took another swing. When it hit Castiel’s leg, the pain was so intense that both of his legs buckled and he fell forward. His wrists pulled sharply on the cuffs above him. He groaned loudly in pain as he tried to get his feet back under him. The gag was ripped out again. “I own you. You are mine. Do you understand?” 

Castiel was shaking his head as he began begging. “Please! What do you want me to say? I don’t know what you want me to say!” Paul shoved the rag back in Castiel’s mouth and said, “Wrong answer.” This time he swung at Castiel’s hip. He shrieked violently. The pain was indescribable, unbearable. Castiel could not believe it was possible to feel that much pain and not die. He was sure that his hip was broken. He was becoming delirious as he screamed and screamed into the rag. He could taste blood. As his awareness of the world around him slowly came back, he realized that he was once again bearing all his weight on his wrists. His legs would not stand this time. 

Sweat dripped into his eyes, his vision blurred, and his ears were ringing. “...to me. Understand?” He felt the barn spin around him. As the gag was removed from his mouth, the sour taste of desperation and terror took its place. “Please, I ca-... I belong to you!” His eyes squeezed shut against the world. “I-” the gag was put in its place and sobs began racking through Castiel’s body. He screamed and begged ‘no’ and ‘please’ through the gag. Then the wrench struck again, right where his left kidney is, and he immediately gasped, but there was no air. He kept trying to pull in air, and then he was choking, and gagging. The gag was ripped out of his mouth, and he continued to try to gasp for air, but could not. “You belong to me, you are mine.” Paul grabbed Castiel's chin and forced him to make eye contact. “I own you. Do you understand me?” 

Castiel was finally able to suck in some air. He stared into Paul’s eyes, begging for mercy with his own. “I-” Castiel gulped, mind racing as he heard the words ‘master’ and ‘sir’ being repeated in his head. He hadn’t heard words in his head like that since he was an angel and able to detect other beings’ thought. Just as quickly as they had appeared in his head, the foreign thoughts were gone. Paul raised his eyebrows at him expectantly. “I understand, sir! O-or master...?” Castiel said quickly. A smile spread across Paul’s face, and the fingers that were roughly holding Castiel’s chin softened their vice grip. They began stroking Castiel’s stubbly cheeks. “Good boy.” 

Castiel felt his whole body relax, and a strange sensation of euphoria spread through him. Paul stepped away and went back to the toolbox. “Stand up.” Castiel struggled to his feet, fighting the pain in his crushed hip. A difficult task since his arms were strung so high up. Paul turned around with a crowbar in his hand. Castiel’s eyes widened, and he felt himself shake his head. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg, to cry, anything to make the pain stop. “Shut up!” Paul was glaring at him. He stalked back towards him. “What’s your name?” Castiel tried to remember the alias that Sam and Dean had given him. He felt the crowbar strike his left leg. “That’s what you get for trying to lie to me. Now I’ll ask again. What is your fuckin’ name?” Castiel replied quickly this time, “Castiel!”

“Not anymore it’s not, from now on your name is Johnny.”

************************

Sam leaned against the gas station counter as he waited for Dean to emerge from the candy aisle. He straightened up when Dean rounded the corner with a box of condoms, a box of M&Ms, and a six pack of beer. Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean as he walked up the counter to pay. “What? I ran out.” Sam scoffed. “Of candy or condoms? When are you even going to have time to use them?” Dean handed the money to the clerk, then replied over his shoulder, “The condoms.” His voice suddenly took on a condescending tone. “You see Sammy, sometimes, when two grown ups like each other, they might hug, and then they wrestle, and then an explosion happ-” Sam cuts Dean off with a roll of his eyes and a ‘Fuck off’, Dean, however, plowed on. “When the explosion happens, sometimes the grown ups want to catch the explosion, and that’s why I brought these grown up balloons.” 

By now, Sam had already turned and walked out of the gas station towards the Impala. Dean turned around to find the clerk staring at him with an amused expression. Dean felt his face heat up. “Brothers, you know how it goes.” A smile spread across the clerk’s face, “Brothers? Oh, I thought you were, like, together. Does that mean you wouldn’t mind testing out those balloons with me?” Dean laughed, “I’m flattered, but I don’t really swing that way, sorry.” Dean left the gas station, bag in hand, and climbed into the Impala. 

“Ok, so we should just head back to the forest and check the soul scroll, instead of...what are you doing?” Dean turned to look at Sam, “What does it look like I’m doing?” Dean had pulled out a sheet of paper and was writing dates. “It looks like you are making an agenda, a really sloppy and nearly illegible one.” Dean shot a glare at his brother. Sam continued, “Is this about that idea of yours from earlier? The one about the vamps sneaking in when we leave?” Dean looked at Sam for a moment, “Yes! Okay? Don’t give me that look. I think we should write down all the dates that we checked the soul scroll, and the amount of vamps in the nest at the time. Let’s be a little scientific about this, okay?” Sam sighed, “Well look at you getting all organized on me. Fine, but you should start by writing down the date we put up the soul scroll.” Dean started scribbling down numbers. “We put up the soul scroll last Thursday. The Thursday before we sent in Cas.” Sam shook his head, “No, it was a Tuesday. I remember.” Dean looked at him incredulously, “You sure about that?” Sam turned his head to look at the parking lot. “I’m positive.” 

He watched a woman walking by. She was wearing scrubs and her blond hair cascaded behind her as she climbed into a large black GMC. He watched her small figure make itself at home in the huge seat of the car as she pulled out a bag of books and began looking through it. “Sam? Sam!” Sam whipped his head around to face Dean, whose expression clearly showed that he had been calling Sam’s name for quite a while. “Yeah?” Dean rolled his eyes, and shoved the paper and pen at Sam. He started the Impala and pulled out of the gas station. “Dude, I called your name like ten times. We are going to see the scroll. Now. I already wrote all the numbers, and everything, you can check it if you want.” Sam turned his attention to the sheet of paper and began comparing the numbers to his memory.

*************************

“Johnny.” Castiel warily met Paul’s eyes. “Yes?” Paul sighed dramatically, then smirked. “Wrong answer.” Castiel heard the crowbar whistle as it came down on his body. He tried to flinch away, but he couldn’t stop the weapon from driving into his knee. He let out a cry of pain and Paul’s hand slammed down on his mouth. The crowbar still rested on Castiel’s wounded knee. “Listen to me, Johnny. If you’re gonna keep screamin’ like that, I’ll have to gag you again. Understand?”

“Y-yes. Yes, sir.”. Paul was silent for a second, and Castiel counted the puffs of breath he could feel land on his face. “ Hmmm...Johnny?” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, sir?” Castiel felt a hand pet over his hair. ”You’re a good boy, Johnny.” Paul was whispering now, lips nearly touching Castiel’s cheek. “You’re being such a good boy...but next time,” Paul moved his hand down to grip Castiel’s jaw. “Next time, keep those pretty blue eyes open, alright?” 

Castiel opened his glassy eyes, and Paul’s face filled his entire field of vision. “Yes. Yes, sir.” Castiel watched Paul’s face soften as a smile overtook his features. “You’re so good, Johnny. Such a good boy for me. You’re my good boy.” Paul leaned closer and breathed in Castiel’s scent. Castiel worried his eyebrows and clenched his jaw. Paul was no doubt smelling the blood running through his veins. The vampire softly brushed his nose over Castiel’s cheek, then pressed it up into his hair. Finally, he slowly trailed his nose down Castiel’s neck. Castiel could hear Paul’s throat click as he swallowed. “Alright,” he whispered as he pulled away roughly. His sudden movement jostled the crowbar that was still pressed against Castiel’s knee.

To Castiel’s horror, Paul slowly let the weapon wander upwards, brushing all around his leg. “Rule number one, Johnny: what happens during our little sessions stays between you and me. Got it?” Castiel’s breath hitched at the silent implications held in Paul’s words. “Yes, sir.” Paul smiled. He let the crowbar continue its journey upwards. This time, on the inside of Castiel’s thigh. “Good,” Paul said as he slid the crowbar up to press it directly against Castiel’s manhood. Castiel couldn’t stifle his shaky exhale. “Because, I don’t wanna have to...” he paused to push the crowbar right against Castiel’s perineum, lightly stroking it back and forth in a deeply humiliating way, “...show you how much you belong to me.” Castiel struggled to stand on his tiptoes so that the crowbar wasn’t nestled so close to him, but it followed him up and remained pressed between his legs. A shiver of fear ran through his body. Tear-filled eyes stared at Paul in fear and understanding.

“So what’s rule number one, Johnny?” Castiel swallowed fearfully. “D-do not share i-information with others about our covert ex-excursions.” Paul chuckled to himself. “ I was gonna hit you for forgetting to tag ‘sir’ on the end, but I’ll let this one pass, since you used such fancy words. Where’re you from anyway?” Castiel looked at Paul warily. He decided to give him the birthplace of his vessel. “I am from the city of Pontiac in the state of Illinois.” Paul frowned, and Castiel quickly tacked on, “S-sir!” Paul hummed as he walked over to the tool box and put the crowbar away. “Well, it’s 6 o’clock. All the other vamps are going to start waking up and feeding soon. Just remember rule number one.” Paul turned slightly and glared at Castiel. “I will, master.” Paul smirked and went about taking the kevlar vest off Castiel. “Good boy, Johnny.” 

When the vest came off, Castiel let out a low moan of pain as all his blood rushed into the injured parts of his chest to form bruises. Paul lowered the chain that Castiel’s cuff were hanging on and Castiel fell heavily to his knees. Not even the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion could stop Castiel from shouting at the shots of pain coursing through his knee, his hip; basically, his whole body. Paul put away the tool box and hid the vest over a rafter. He roughly pulled Castiel up by his arm and covered his head once more with the kidnap-sac. In no time at all, Castiel was back in his cot with his hands chained to the bolt in the ground. He felt a terrible sense of pain and sadness as he truly looked over his position. He was a prisoner, a host to human sized parasites. He has been treated as a personal play-thing, most recently. He was incredibly ill, and, finally, he was extremely lonely. Tears trickled down his face, and he felt the need to cry out, to wail, but all he could do was silently weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for creepy characters and blood drinking. Written by SaraPBateman and beta'd by Ohcassie. Enjoy!

“We walked this way already!” Dean growled as he snatched the map from Sam. “No we did not. Don’t tell me where we went or didn’t go, because I was the one who put up the scroll, ok? Not you, so I think I know better than you which way to go from here.” 

Dean huffed as he looked at the map, and then shoved it back at Sam. “Ughhhh, I know we passed this tree twice already!” Sam glared at Dean as he folded the map and put it in his pocket. “That literally looks identical to every other tree in this forest.” Dean looked at it for a second as they stopped for a water break. “You look identical to every tree in this forest…” Sam shook his head and leaned against a tree as he took a huge gulp from his water bottle. 

“How does this thing work anyways? Huh? I thought it was suppose to make hunting easier, not harder!” Dean made a point of snatching the water bottle out of Sam’s hand. “It’s because they have a lot of land. I didn’t realize that putting it on the perimeter of the land was just an option, I thought it was a requirement for the spell to work. It was my first time doing this. Give me a break. Turns out, I could have just put it in a circle around their farmhouse or the farmhouse and the driveways.” Dean looked at him incredulously, “So you are saying that we didn’t have to walk all this way, and possible get lost in the forest?” Sam walked passed him. “It’s not that far. Don’t be such a wuss.” 

Dean pulled out his phone and shoved it at Sam, “Seven miles, Sam. Seven miles is pretty far.” Dean then snatched the phone back from Sam and shoved it in his pocket. “So how did you get this done, cause, I need to know how to recreate this when you die.” Dean smirked at Sam. 

“I chanted the spell, over and over while I walked in a circle around the perimeter letting a string fall behind me. The circle represents the circle of life, and the string represents both the containment of the souls, and the fragility of the physical vessel. I then took a sample of vamp blood, and a sample of human blood and drew an alpha and omega symbol on the top right corner of the parchment to symbolize-” 

“Dude, stow it with the technicalities, alright? I don’t care about why, I just want to know the how, ok?” Dean kicked a branch angrily out of the way.

“Fine. The blood you use to draw the alpha and omega symbol has to come from the vessel of the  type of soul you want the scroll to count. Like, if I want to find out how many angels are in a certain space I would put angel blood instead.” Dean looked over at Sam, questioningly. “What if it’s something you don’t know and you don’t have some of its blood?” 

Sam replied, “That’s the thing that makes this so useful, it doesn’t have to be just blood. You can use any thing that comes from it or is owned by it, and if you don’t even have that, all you have to do is write in Cuneiform Aramaic, ‘find me the souls within thee, praise the lord.’ and it will show you all the souls regardless of species. I was researching it yesterday, and if you write, ‘ find me the souls within the vessels, within thee; praise the Lord.’ then it  shows you the vessels in black and the souls within each vessel in various colors, gray for demon, white for human, blue for angle, and so on so forth.” 

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. “Oh, so now you know if a vessel has more than one soul then-” Sam nodded, “It’s possessed. Exactly. Oh we’re here.” Dean looks at Sam quizzically. “How do you know?” Sam pointed out the white string that was hanging over everything. “I used up ten extra thick rolls of string to get it all around the perimeter. You should have helped me. It was exhausting and I burned my fingers!” 

“Boo-hoo! Quit whining, I always have to do other annoying jobs.” Sam replied angrily, “Yeah, because you always lose at Rock-Paper-Scissors!” 

Dean walked ahead and ducked under the white string. He looked at the parchment nailed to a tree, the nail had the string wound around it. “Sam, it has nothing on it.” Sam walked over to Dean. “Yeah, because you have to say the password for it, which has to be in a language of God, like Latin, ‘tessera’ See its work- HOLY-” 

“OH MY GOD! I TOLD YOU! I told you they are sneaking in there behind our backs.” Sam stared at the paper for another second. “There must be something wrong. That’s impossible.” Dean sighed loudly, “Yeah, something wrong with your head.” 

Dean held up the paper with all the numbers he had written down in the car. “Look, when we checked it last week, there were only seventeen vamps. Now there are forty! What the fuuuuck!”

Sam stared at the paper, “Maybe that’s just more victims they took in…?” Dean shook his head, “There would be more missing persons reports.” Sam stared at Dean for a couple seconds. “Then why are they all coming here?” 

Dean looked at the paper intently. “Beats me. Hey, vampires can get drunk or high, right?” Sam nodded as he murmured “tessera”, and the parchment became blank. “When I was on watch last night and you were at the library, I saw this one vamp stumbling around. I mean, he was really tripping balls, man. He was walking in the woods towards my car, and when he saw me, he straight up tried to hug me! It was weird, like, he wasn’t sweating or anything, even though it seemed like he was on ecstasy, or LSD.” 

Sam stopped in the middle of his tracks and turned to Dean. “Are you sure about that? No symptoms?” Dean nodded. “What? You think of something?” Sam started walking again. “No, it’s just weird.” Dean hummed, and then said, “Thank God for this scroll. Imagine strolling in there thinking there were only nine vamps, like a normal nest. We would’ve gotten ourselves killed!” 

“Thank God is right. The soul scroll was invented by Angels to help King Saul of Tarsus find all the disbelievers or non-jews and burn them. At least that’s how the legend goes.” Dean murmured, “Well, speaking of angels, do you think Cas told them about us?” 

Sam side-eyed Dean and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It wouldn’t surprise me....we should have scared him a little more.” Dean whipped his head to Sam, and then tried and failed at nonchalantly turning his head back to face their path. He replied too casually, “What do you mean?” Sam frowned and shrugged. “I mean, like, we should have threatened him. We spoiled him too much for what he did to us. Honestly, we should have treated him the way Crowley treated Meg after he finally caught her.” 

Dean snorted and said, “You wanted to bleach his hair?” Sam smirked, and turned away from Dean to look at some invisible bird. “I wanted to make him bathe in it for a whole day, then swallow the bath water.” 

Dean awkwardly attempted to change the subject. “So...how are we going to take out forty vampires?” Sam straightened his shoulders and turned his head to face Dean over his shoulder, “How do you think?” Dean noticed a glint in Sam’s eyes, one that means he has a great idea. Sam tossed his answer back at Dean over his shoulder, “With fire.”  
*********************  
Castiel tried to settle his aching body into the small, uncomfortable cot. He found himself, strangely enough, in a fetal position. It was strange because he himself was never a fetus. He wiped the tears off of his face on his shoulder and he stared at his wrists. They were lacerated and cut beyond repair. Moving his hand at all was a terrible and messy ordeal. There was blood all over his pillow and sheets. 

He had counted 1,867 seconds since Paul had declared it was six o’clock, and the vampires have yet to come and feed on him. Then again, thirty minutes and sixty seven seconds was a relatively short amount of time. He missed the days when, as an angel, he had an internal clock that kept perfect time and never had to rely on others to know what time of the day it was. Since vampires are nocturnal creatures, it is most likely six o’clock in the evening. Well, six-thirty-one now. 

He heard footsteps outside of his cell, and his cell door squeaked open. 1,957 seconds...1,959...Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to focus on anything but whoever was approaching him. 2,015 seconds...2,020 seconds, suddenly he felt rough hand grip his shoulder and violently pull him up from his position on the cot. For a second, he thought Paul was back, but a moment later, a hand gripped his hair and pulled his head to the side. He felt a particularly large set of fangs rip into his neck, then he felt his blood escaping his body. 

At 2,789 seconds, the vampire was pulled off of Castiel by another impatient vamp. At 3,422 seconds, Castiel had the fourth vamp that night on his neck. He began to feel lightheaded as the blood loss caught up to him. The cell was spinning.3,439...3,440...3,441...three thousand...two hundred...and...forty two? Or forty four? Panic set in as he realized that he had lost count of time. 

He began to try to push the vamp off. This one he recognized as...Shane? He was very tall, and had called Castiel pretty when he had first seen him. He always embraced Castiel from behind when he fed off of him, with his arms wrapped around Castiel’s chest and underneath his arms. 

Castiel’s head felt like it weighed a ton. He tried to straighten up and pull away from Shane, but his hands only pathetically pushed at Shane’s. Shane simply tightened his grasp, completely pulling Castiel onto his lap. His right hand reached upwards and pulled on Castiel’s hair, tilting his head to the left, in order to have more access to his neck. Castiel tried to recover his count of time, but was unable to. He had no idea whether it was day or night. Without counting to distract him, everything around him became so much more vivid and terrifying. 

The burning heat of his fever. The uncomfortable pull on his hair. The fangs lodged in his neck. His chafed wrists. The fire each breath delivered to his chest. The tight arms pressing against his bruises and making them throb and ache. The burn of hot tears as they filled his eyes to the brim and dripped down his face. The weakness of his arms...he is so weak...so pathetic...gone are the days when a single glance from him could send the heathen biting his vessel’s neck into another dimension...he is pitifully weak...and so very worthless… 

“Alright, that’s enough Shaun. You have to leave enough for others, asshole!” Shaun started getting up from the cot, but kept his mouth on Castiel’s neck, forcing Castiel to bend forward on his crushed hip. He couldn't stifle his pained yelp. Castiel heard Shane...er-Shaun swallow after pulling his teeth out of Castiel’s neck. He continued to lick Castiel’s neck, catching stray drops of blood with this lips and tongue. Shaun groaned in pleasure, and Castiel felt himself shudder in revulsion. 

“Come on, man! Don’t start getting sexual with the bag. That’s disgusting. Ain’t nobody wanna see that!” After one last lick to the wound, Shaun whispered into Castiel’s ear, “Man, if I had you all to myself, baby, I would take care of you good. Just you wait and see.” Castiel tried to push himself to a sitting position in order to see the next vamp. He tried to remember how to ask for the time, but his head was spinning worse than that fateful night at the bar so long ago. 

He looked up to see a vampire that he recognizes. Castiel does not know his name, but he remembers that he is the one that always slaps him on the back and says ‘Thanks, bud!’ when he is done feeding. That is not going to feel good. 

Castiel slurred, “Hello, Mr. um...will you please re-refrain from hitting me after you are finished?” For some reason, Castiel felt confidence slip into his words as his lightheadedness neared dangerous territory. “It’s always really painful, and I think it’s going to hurt more tonight, so please just don’t. It’s not nearly as rewarding for me as you think it is. It just makes me feel like you are patronizing me and that is very rude.” The vamp smiled at him for a second, and then said, “Are you usually this chatty?” Castiel let his eyes wander over to his open cell door. “No, just with vamps that I like.” The smile fell off of the vampire’s pale face and was replaced with a dark glare. 

“What did you just say?” Castiel looked at the vamp with confusion. “I-I said that I only speak with vampires that I like.” The vampire grabbed the front of Castiel’s shirt and pulled him up closer to his face. “You said, and I quote, ‘No, just with vamps that I like’...who are you workin’ with?” Castiel shook his head, “What do you mean? I am not working with anyone.” The vampire bared his teeth and growled at Castiel, “Only hunters call us ‘vamps’, so I’m going to ask you for the last time; who are you working with?” Castiel gulped and stared at him with wide eyes, he opened his mouth and closed it like a gaping fish, trying to think of something to say. 

The vampire shook Castiel violently by the front of the shirt and ripped him roughly upwards from the cot. Before he could slam Castiel back down, the smell of blood wafting from Castiel's neck reached his nose. The rough handling had opened another bite wound, causing Castiel to bleed.

A second had barely passed before the vampire was on him, biting into his neck hungrily and swallowing copious amounts of blood. Castiel saw white and black spots speckle his vision as he lost more blood. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, a different vampire was ripping into his neck. One he had never met before. He felt like he was floating, and the reality that he may die very soon became abundantly clear. 

He tried to focus, to stay awake, as he realized that the next time he closes his eyes may be his last time. He felt himself being jerked and he heard his cell’s door slam shut. His eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried desperately to keep his eyes open. He was on the losing side of an uphill battle, and in order to stay awake, he pulled on his cuffs. The pain jolted him awake, and the effort of pulling on his chains kept him busy.   
********************************  
Dean walked into the quaint, modest building that counted as the small town’s city hall. He strolled over to the front desk, and to his great fortune, a middle-aged soccer mom type was intently typing something into a computer. 

“Hi, I’m Agent Page. James Page,” He pulled out his fake badge, “I need information on the floor plans and ownership of Norton Farms. I also need their copies of their licences, agricultural registrations, deeds, and a copy of the last report done by O.S.H.A. on their facilities, properties, and land.” He gave her his most charming smile and waited for her response. 

“Oh, is this about all those people who’ve gone missing?” Dean stepped closer to the counter and put his elbows on it, leaning forward towards her casually. “Yes, how did you know?” she smiled at him, “Well, why else would an FBI agent come to our town? We are really small and closed off, so word gets around very easily.” Dean laughed, “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, if there is anything you know about that, please let us know.” 

As he began writing his number down on the scrap paper she had to his left, she blushed and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Absolutely, Mr. Page-” Dean interrupted, “Please, call me Jimmy.” He handed her his number with a wink. She took the paper, and added, “Of course, Jimmy. Would you like any more information on the Norton Farms? I can just bring the whole file down for ya’.” He beamed at her, “That would be great.  Thank you very much!” She got up from her chair and sashayed around the counter. “It’s really no problem. I’ll have everything ready in an hour or so. Feel free to leave and come back then.” He nodded at her, “Alright, I’ll be back in an hour.” 

She hummed and turned on her heel and walked to the staircase. She then proceeded to jog up the stairs, causing her ass to bounce very nicely. Dean found himself considering staying in town an extra night. He smirked as he walked out to the Impala. 

“Alright, she said she’ll have everything ready in an hour.” Sam nodded, “Sounds good, what do we do until then?” Dean started the Impala. “Well, we need plenty of supplies.” Sam shook his head, “We can’t get supplies until we have a floor plan, otherwise, how will we know how much we need of everything?” 

“Well, we need another first aid kit, and lots of meds, because we are really running low on that. We can get those, and then head back for the floor plan and get the rest of the stuff we need.” Sam sat back in his seat, “Alright, so we’re heading to the pharmacy?” 

“Yes, but first we have to get food. I’m really fucking hungry.” Sam snorted, “When are you not?”  
*******************************  
Castiel won out against his body, which begged for him to fall unconscious. His eyes slowly moved around, looking at every part of the small cell. He forced himself to sit up one leg crossed and the other hanging off the cot. His hands supported him as he leaned on his arms. He was examining the water stains on the wall that his cot was up against when he heard the cell door squeak open. 

“Hey, don't be scared. My name’s Jen.” Castiel let his eyes wander to the woman standing in front of his cot. She was holding a bag, which Castiel could not determine the color of. He tried to remember why his arms were so heavy. They were so heavy that he really couldn’t lift them. However, he did not want the pretty lady to think he was being rude. 

“My name’s Castiel. I would shake your hand, but my arms are really tired.” Jen, who had walked towards the other side of the cell, turned to look at him with a puzzled expression on her face. Her eyes flitted down to his bound wrists, and back up to his face, and back down. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, then she walked over to him and kneeled down until they were eye to eye. 

“Hey, can you tell me what year it is?” He cocked his head at her, “Yes, it’s the year of the horse. Why do you ask?” She frowned and nodded, “Okay, so you lost a lot more blood than I originally thought.” The bag was now on the cot, open. Jen began pulling out bandages and gauze from the bag, along with a pair of scissors. “I would stitch you up, but they are just going to rip the wounds open again.” She pulled out a thermometer. “Open wide. This goes under your tongue.” Castiel closed his lips around the thermometer. Jen moved quickly in going about taking off the cuffs and pulling his shirt over his head. He heard her gasp. 

“Oh my god! How-What happened to you? When did this happen?” She gently felt around the bruises. “Who did this?” Exhaustion took over his features as he looked at her, which she returned with her own look of unbridled pity. She pulled the thermometer out of his mouth and grimaced as she looked at it, “103.5, we really need to get you some antibiotics. Alright, so who was it?” “It was- he said...I can’t tell you. He told me not to tell anyone.” Castiel trembled at the memory. She moved everything off of the cot, and sat next to him. She began cleaning the wounds on his neck. “No, you can tell me. I hate them...all of them…” She growled, “everyone of those bastards. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you told me.” 

“No, I-I really can’t. Paul would get really angry.” She nodded at him, “So it was Paul.” Realizing his mistake, Castiel’s eyes widened fearfully as he turned to look imploringly at her. 

“Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone. I promise. Why did he? Was it something you said?” Castiel flinched as she pressed the alcohol drenched cotton ball into one of the fresh bites on his neck. “I...I really don’t know why. He made it seem like the only reason was because...because he owns me. I don't know. Why does anyone abuse individuals who are physically weaker than them?” She pulled a piece of a leather belt out of her bag, and put it in front of Castiel’s lips. “Here bite on this.” 

Castiel looked at her warily as he bit down on the leather. His eyes caught on the leather bracelet with celtic carvings that adorned her wrist. She began pulling the two week old dressing away from his infected bite wounds. He felt himself begin to sweat as pain pierced every part of the right side of his neck and right shoulder. He had not noticed that Jen opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol until she was tipping it over and drenching the infected wounds with its contents. Castiel convulsed and folded over in pain. A loud groan escaped him as every part of his body shook. 

He groaned loudly again as she pressed a clean rag to the wounds, and squeezed them to push out the pus. He tried to push her hand away desperately as choked off sounds escaped his mouth. However, she was incredibly strong for a woman of her stature. Castiel simply chalked it up to her being a vampire. “Shhhh, it's ok. I’m almost done. You will feel much better after I’m done.” She squeezed one of the bite wounds again, this time Castiel blacked out for five minutes or so, but was awakened once more by her pouring more alcohol on the wounds. “Alright, alright! That’s it. I’m going to put new dressing on them now. Not sure how that’s going to help, since they are probably going to just rip it off again like the animals they are.” 

Soon enough, Jen had the infected wounds all dressed up, along with the new ones, and was examining Castiel’s wrists. “So, were you a nurse or?” Castiel asked, motioning with his eyes at her scrubs. “That is what medical assistants traditionally wear, correct?” She smiled at him, “Yes, and you talk funny.” She sighed, her eyes taking on a look of sorrow. “I was-am a nurse. I work in this town’s hospital.” Castiel looked at her with confusion, “You continue to work at the hospital despite being a vampire? Why?” She looked up at him, “Well, they need someone to bring back or ‘take care of’ any victims who escape, and someone to keep their eyes on the town, and listen in on what the town thinks of the farm, if there is any rumors or suspicions being spread about the farm around the town. Or any new visitors which may be federal agents or something.” He felt like he was once again betrayed, the same sensation as when Paul had tricked him. 

“I thought you didn’t like them,” his voice, which had taken on an angry tone, broke as he realized he may have been tricked once again. “You lied-” he noticed that Jen’s frame trembling as she seemed to focus on his wrist a lot harder than she previously had been. “You don’t like them either, do you?” Jen glanced up at Castiel, and quickly went back to cleaning the wrist wounds. “Yeah, I really don’t. They did some horrible things to me...to my...We were finally free. They destroyed our dreams.” Her hands stop working and her head bowed in pain. Tears dripped down on Castiel’s wrist and mixed with his blood. He felt her whole body shake as she hugged herself, and sobs wracked through her body. 

“We were in love, and this town is extremely religious and unforgiving, so we decided to run away without telling anyone about us in the middle of the night. We spent years saving up and building our dream roadtripping car from the ground up. It was a cherry red 1969 Mustang, we also saved up eighty-thousand dollars between us for the trip of a lifetime. The night that we were planning on running, everything was going smoothly. I had sold my house and added more to our budget. We could start our life somewhere across the world if we wanted to. She had already cut the lease on her apartment, and we had everything we would need packed, we were so ready to start our lives...and then we finally began our journey.” She paused to swipe a hand in front of her eyes. 

“We were finally on the road out of town when...when they attacked our car...they had stolen a spike strip from the police station, and we drove over it...since our car is an old model, the strip didn’t really work on our wheels, so our tires were fine. I know that we should have just kept driving, but…I don’t know why, I stopped the car and stepped out to check on the tires.” She blinked tears out of her eyes, and stared up at a point on a far wall in front of her. “We...they took our beautiful car, and pushed it into their lake with everything we had in it. They took all of our money, and destroyed everything we owned...they took her...they took my Emmie...my perfect Emmie. They just bit into her and there was blood everywhere...she was still alive after...and they took her...to the attic...and they turned me...they fed on her...have been for over four years...I try to take care of her...always bring her medicine, and I try to bring her her favorite food... keep her healthy, but they take so much blood...and the blood loss has damaged her immune system, and her nervous system... she suffers a terrible winter fever every year...and every year the damage is worse than the last...last year was the worst yet...she can’t really talk very well anymore...and this year I am afraid her fever will take away her eyesight...she told me to kill her if that happens...that she can’t stand to never be able to see me again...and I-” a sob escaped her, and she shook her head, and wrapped her arms around her even tighter. Another sob shook through her. 

“I would never- I would die if something happened to her...but the thing is, with us living as if it is the middle-ages here, it’s unsanitary...and no proper- you know, she gets worse everyday...I’m so scared of losing her...I mean, how long can someone survive in medieval conditions, and repeated blood loss...I can’t bear losing her…” Castiel felt the urge to do something, comfort her in some way. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of anything, so he put his hand on her shoulder as he had seen other humans do when they see someone in pain or despair. 

“I have never told anyone about this before, this is very weird. I don’t know, I guess I just feel like I can trust you.” Castiel rasped back, “Thank you, I also feel that I can trust you, Jen.” She laughed softly, and slowly let her arms fall from their comforting position around her body. She slowly turned her attention back to Castiel’s wrists. “Jen, I think there may be a way to save Emma...and maybe you as well.” Jen froze in her place, her eyes flick up to meet Castiel’s for a second. “What do you mean?” Castiel thought for a minute before replying, as he weighed the risks of telling Jen about Sam and Dean. The problem was, he wasn’t even sure if they were still in town or if they just left him to die. Well, chances are, if he just mentioned the idea of them, being hunters and all, she is a lot more likely to save his life, and risk being caught. 

“I was sent in here as bait…” Jen looked at him with questioning eyes. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “I was sent in here by hunters so that they could find the vampire’s nest.” Jen’s eyes widened as she leaned closer to better hear what Castiel had to say. “Hunters?” Castiel nodded, “Yes, they are people who hunt monsters like vampires, werewolves, other unholy beings.” Jen raised her head in surprise. “There are more than just vampires?” Castiel replied quickly, “Yes, and these hunters travel around the country preserving these people’s lives by exterminating these heathens. They know how to target each abomination’s weakness, and how each monster’s abilities vary from others.” Jen nodded at him slowly. “So that is how it is? Then why haven't they showed up yet?” Castiel swallowed and tried his best not to show the fear and sadness that he felt on in his heart. 

“There could be many reasons for that...they could just be waiting for necessities, or for reinforcements, or they may be devising a plan of sorts.” A smile slowly spread over Jen’s face. “OK, that sounds awesome! OK, so do you need me to do anything? How do I help?” Castiel felt relief flow through his body. “You need to help me get out of here.” Jen wrapped the last bandage around his wrist. “Alright...If I get caught, we could both get caught, and Emma would get killed for sure. So we have to be super extra careful. Just wondering though, why would we need me to escape? I thought you said that theses hunters, your friends I’m assuming, would come in and bust you out.” 

Castiel’s mind raced as he thought of a sensical reason for him to need escape. “Yes, but they might kill you too. When hunters come in to exterminate a nest, things can get chaotic, or how you say, messy. It is safer if I can get you and Emmie out of here beforehand.” Jen nodded understandingly. “Alright, we will have to come up with a plan- shoot! I’m all out of antibiotics. Ok, I will go out get some more antibiotics, and some painkillers too. You try to think of a plan, alright?” Castiel voiced his ascent. Jen quickly packed her things away into her red medical bag and reluctantly cuffed Castiel back in place. As she turned to leave, she smiled sadly at him and waved goodbye. 

“I’ll be back soon.” Castiel waved back at her, lied down, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos! Comments! Let us know what you think will happen next;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for creepy characters, blood drinking, and some noncon at the end. Be safe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey....it’s only been 7 months since we last updated this. Better late than never right? 
> 
> We are so so sorry about the painfully long wait, but this chapter and every chapter after it, up to the very END, are behemoths! Lots of reading material to keep you occupied while you wait for the next update(which hopefully won’t be 7 months from now). 
> 
> We have every chapter written, it just takes forever to edit since they are so huge. But, again, sorry about the wait. Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter by SaraPBateman. Beta’d by Ohcassie.

Dean steered Baby into the small, locally-owned pharmacy’s parking lot. They had searched all over for a Walgreen’s or CVS, but the town doesn’t even have a Wal-Mart, so finding one of those corporate pharmacies was out of the question. Sam stepped out of the Impala before Dean had even taken the key out of the ignition, focusing intently on a list of supplies in his hand.

As the brothers stepped into the warm shop, the pungent smell of medicine made Dean scrunch his nose and seriously consider leaving Sam to do the shopping while he kicked back in the Impala.

“Don’t even think about leaving me here. I always do the shopping, and since this time I had to put up the stupid soul scroll, that means you have to at least help with getting supplies.” Like always, Sam had somehow read his mind.

“I wasn’t going to leave...” Sam gave Dean a knowing glare. “Ok, quit...quit whining, and shut up...bitch.” Sam turned and started looking for the first aid aisle. “Whatever, Jerk.” Dean looked at all the different kinds of first aid supplies and thought about whether they should buy more than usual since Cas…

“Hey, you know how we always get one super-first aid kit? Should we maybe get two? Or like, an extra small one on the side or what?” Sam gave Dean a quick glance as he pulled out his phone to calculate the amount of money they would have left for hardware supplies if they spend the usual amount on medical supplies. “Why would we buy an extra pack?” Dean pursed his lips for a second, and crossed his arms, trying to think of a way to remind Sam that Castiel may need medical attention without sounding like he was going soft.

“Um, well, this is a big nest, you know. We might need more to...we might get hurt more than usual.” Sam placed their usual mega-sized kit into the basket. “Uh-huh...so this has nothing to do with Castiel, by any chance?” Dean casually walked past Sam and began flipping through a Sports Illustrated Magazine with Kate Upton in a bikini on the cover. “No, it has nothing to do with Cas, I just think that we will need more supplies than usual. I mean, what about the victims in there?”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean and set back his shoulders. “Are you serious? When have we ever stayed long enough after burning the vamp’s bodies to help any vics besides calling them an ambulance? Especially with nests this big. I mean, the bigger the nest, the more likely that we will have little to no survivors.” Dean slapped the magazine shut, and rolled it up to gesture with it. “Yes, but like is that a really a good idea? I mean shouldn’t we be doing the most possible for victims? I mean like-” Sam interrupted, “No, you know what I think this is about? I think this about Castiel. You. Are. Getting. Soft.” With each word, Sam made a point of poking Dean in the chest. As Dean opened his mouth to reply Sam jumped in with more to say, “If this isn’t about Castiel, then why did you ask for just one extra small first aid kit to add to our supplies. Because if this is really about helping the vics, then you would have asked for more than just one extra kit. To add to that, since when have you ever-” Sam suddenly went silent, as his eyes caught something behind Dean, who instantly went on alert.

Sam slowly finished the sentence to give the impression that there was nothing wrong, “-wanted to spend more time in a town with a vamp case?” He scratched his ear to signal to Dean that someone was listening to them. He then tugged on his earlobe to indicate that it is someone (or something) who needs to be taken in. He motioned to Dean’s left shoulder as if gesturing to him, but Dean understood that he meant that the eavesdropper is behind him to his left.

“We just need to get an ambulance on the scene, and if anyone is in need of immediate medical attention, then the ambulance will take care of them,” At this point, Sam and Dean were both slowly backing up, casually making their way towards where the eavesdropper was standing. “and make sure they get to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Dean made a small closing motion with his right hand in front of his face to ask Sam if it was safe to check who is listening using his phone screen or the small mirror he keeps in his pocket for this reason. Sam nodded as he said, “Besides, it wouldn’t fit in our budget to buy more medical supplies.” By now, Dean had caught the reflection of the small figure turned around pretending to read a pamphlet on testicular cancer...upside-down. “Alright, you have a point, let's just stick to the plan and gank these bastards.”

Dean signed the number two to indicate to Sam that they are going with motion two, which is capturing the eavesdropper. Luckily, they were already near the back of the store, away from the cash registers and customer service where all the cameras, employees, and witnesses tend to be. Dean continued to step back until he was less than a foot away from the target, who was standing between two aisles. In one swift move, Dean turned around, stepped up to his quarry, and disarmed her by twisting her arm around her back. His other hand came up and quickly muffle her. Sam stepped forward to grab her feet. In less than a minute, Sam had her feet and hands zip-tied and her head covered with a sack that he keeps on his person for emergencies like this.

They exited through a door in the back of the store and stuffed their victim in the Impala’s trunk. They took a good look at their prize, and it became fairly obvious that it was a vampire who they had captured. Dean grabbed a syringe filled with dead man’s blood and emptied it into her neck. The boys stepped back and watched her hisses and snarls lessen. They shared puzzled expressions over her attire; their find was dressed in scrubs. Sam recognizes her from the gas station but does not mention it. He side eyes Dean in an attempt to get a one up on what he is thinking.

“Alright, so we got ourselves a vampire nurse.” Dean murmured as he leaned forward and began rummaging through her pockets. He finds her wallet and fishes out her ID, “Jenna Palmer,” Dean then pulls out her clinical ID from one of the scrub pockets, “Registered Pediatric Nurse; Emergency Room Assistant. You think she stole it? ” Sam took the ID to examine it. He instantly recognized the vamp’s face on the ID. It matched. Dean must not have gotten a chance to see her face in all the chaos or remember her from that gas station parking lot. Sam thought for a second on what to say. “This ID expires on...July 9th of next year. Do think she is still working as a nurse? I mean, it’s unlikely that she would have stolen this off of a fresh victim, and then started wearing her outfit around town right way. You know you could just check her face...you know, see if it matches the ID?”

Dean looked at the vamp’s sack-covered head and grimaced, “Ugh, I hate seeing their faces after they get pumped with deadman’s blood, their fangs hang all out and their eyes are all red and swollen.” Sam rolled his eyes and pushed past Dean. He lifted the sack and pretended to compare the photo on the ID to the vamp’s face, even though he knew that it would be a match. He found himself grimacing in disgust at the protruding fangs and bloodshot eyes.

“Hey, are they supposed to- are they supposed to bleed like that?” Sam motioned at the bright red drops of blood coming out of the corner of the vamp’s eyes like tears. “Yeah, I’ve seen that before. Sometimes they get really fucked up when they’re injected with dead blood. That’s usually a sign that they are either very young or just affected by the blood more than usual. I’m guessing she couldn’t have been turned more than a decade ago.” Sam stared at the vamp’s face...it looked very...with her mouth hanging open like that...her bright blue eyes turned dull and unseeing...yet she was looking right at him...through him...golden hair dirtied and spread around her head like a mock halo...blood running down her face like tears...dripping...dripping onto his forehead-

“...SAM!” Sam quickly spun to face Dean, eyes wide. He tried his best to hide his heavy breathing. Dean was staring at him with eyes full of concern. “Yeah? Yes. What?” Dean shoved a rag in the vamp’s slack mouth and pulled the sack back down on her face. He slammed the trunk shut and turned to Sam. “What the hell is wrong with you? I called your name like ten times! What’s gotten into you, man? You’ve been really out of it lately.” Sam shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. Dean stared at him with a ‘well? What do you gotta say for yourself?’ look on his face.

“Fine. Don’t say anything. Let’s go get the rest of our supplies and head back to city hall.” Sam nodded, “Sounds good.” Dean shakes his head and turns back towards the pharmacy. Sam calls after him, “What do you want me to say?” Dean sighs, “Nothing, Sammy. Nothing.”

 

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Tanner stepped out into the main dining hall of the farmhouse. There was supposed to be a house meeting. Apparently, Boss wants to set some ground rules. Probably gonna be about the most delicious blood bag ever to live. A blood bag which was also clearly a bait of some sort. He has been called a ‘vampire’, a ‘bloodsucker’, a ‘parasite’, a ‘monster’, once even a ‘fiend’ by other bags before, but no other blood bag has ever called him a ‘vamp’...except that one from about twenty years ago. A teenager and his hunter father down in Nevada. Tanner recalls the fearless bravado the boy had about him, but his heartbeat gave away his hidden anxiety. He smiled to himself at the memory of the boy and his cocky smirk. His smart-alecky remarks quickly turning into panicked whimpers as Tanner ripped into him, green eyes filled with fear.

God, he fucking hates hunters. But that bag is just so delightfully sweet and savory all at once. Ambrosia, decadence, this nectar of the gods, absolutely...heavenly. The taste of that bag’s blood was still on Tanner’s tongue. The memory of biting into its neck was making his mouth water all over again. As expected, within a couple minutes of feeding on that special bag, Tanner began feeling the familiar rush of happiness and strength running through his veins. He felt himself becoming lighter and lighter.

He suddenly realized just how much he loved everybody. He was giddy, truly giddy. The more he thought about it the less he liked the idea of outing the bag. What if Boss kills the bag? Then what? No more tripping on this luscious, flavorful blood. The poor bag looks like shit anyways, so does he really deserve more pain? Yes, yet, killing the bag would be putting it out of its misery. But, what if Boss decides to torture the bag for more information? Oh, the poor thing!

“Wait a minute, why the fuck do I give a rat’s ass what happens to that filthy piece of shit?” Tanner murmured to himself as he had a minute of clarity between hits of the blood taking effect, “Get your head in the game, man.” As a 458-year-old vampire, he is considered one of the more respectable vampires in the United States. He was called to this particular nest by Gerald, who was called up by Don, who was called up by the Ashton, also known as ‘Boss’.

Ashton had called about this amazing bag he had found, ‘blood so smooth and sweet it has your head spinning, and your eyes swimming.’ Of course, no one had believed him. If he had indeed found such a blessing, why would he share such information with any other nest? The reason became very apparent when Joe Millard came up to see what Ashton had and experienced the terrible side-effects that came with tasting this divine blood.

The side-effects include, but are not limited to: Generosity, feelings of love, caring for others, happiness, monotheism, purchasing gifts for people(for no apparent or unapparent reason), hallucinations, forgiveness, compassion, going on strange blogging websites, rushes of power and invincibility, and the urge to go to church(although very uncommon). Millard called back everyone he knew(including those from the previous line) and told them about this amazing blood bag.

The reality is, Millard is known to be a vampire pirate, a ‘vampirate’ if you will, who is so filthy and no good that he murdered his own mate. Who was also, by chance, his soul mate. He goes around killing, raping, and terrorizing every man, woman, child, monster, vampire; anything that he can hurt in any way. His nest is hostage to him, and only go where he allows them to. They only eat where he allows them to eat, and only breathe where he allows them to breathe. He left them behind in Alabama when he came up to check out, and, more nefariously, to destroy Ashton’s nest.

So, of course, along with many others, Tanner came to see what all the buzz was about. Tanner is what hunters call a loner vamp. He knows that because he recalls being called that by that hunter’s kid so long ago. He has no nest and no mate. Therefore, it was no big deal for him to travel all this way from San Antonio. When he first met Ashton, Tanner had tried his best not to be visibly angry or annoyed by his cocky, controlling, and over-all tyrannical attitude. Why or how had a vampire so young come across this holy grail of a blood bag is really beyond Tanner.

After a couple nights at Ashton’s nest, he got used to the comfort and safety of having many, many vampires around. He also reluctantly got into the habit of referring to Ashton as ‘Boss’. But, hey, everyone else was calling him that, it felt weird to be the only one not to. Eventually, he wanted to join the nest and move here permanently. Of course, Tanner being a loner made the move a unanimous decision, but it quickly came to his attention that being alone also gave him the disadvantage of being at the mercy of Ashton’s decision of whether or not he can be allowed to be part of this nest. If he had a larger nest, it would have been much easier to simply intimidate Ashton into allowing Tanner to stay.

So now, Tanner has to make a good impression on the ‘Boss’ before asking for permission to stay. This whole hunter’s bait deal is the perfect opportunity for a good impression...but Tanner needs to be real careful about this. He needs to show his value to the whole group, not just Boss, and especially to the other leaders. Also, there is a slight chance that Boss may try to kill him after he shares this information, and although Tanner has no doubt that he can defeat a mutt of a vampire half his age, he is not so sure about going against five of them. If Boss decides to turn his nest on Tanner, he would hardly stand a chance. Even if he did survive, Boss could ruin his reputation for good. So, publicity is key.

Finally, Tanner needs to present this information in a way which makes him look a lot smarter, and a lot more useful than he actually is. Rather than simply say that the bag slipped up, he will really over-sell himself by saying that he went around town looking at all the missing people posters and reports, trying to find the identity of the bag to make sure he is not too important and to settle his own curiosities. Then, he would mention not finding a missing person’s report on the bag, and that even after he researched the missing person’s database for the bag, he couldn’t find any recent reports. This lead him to the conclusion that the bag is bait.

Now that he thinks about it, it may not be a bad idea to mention that maybe hunters put something in the bag’s blood to make it delicious, and that they need to find out what that thing is. That would definitely save the bag’s life, right? Yeah...probably not. 

The dining room was slowly filling up with vamps. Soon enough, every vamp on the farm was waiting for Boss to come in. Ashton walked into the full room, followed by Junior and Paul. A couple seconds later, Mina, a fairly young vamp, came into the room along with John and Pakwa. 

“A couple things: Mina is moving here permanently. You will all answer to her now as you answer to me. Pakwa’s nest is moving next door, and John’s nest is going to head back down to Virginia for a couple of months.” After speaking, Boss turned to Mina, who smiled at him softly and nodded. Tanner felt his scalp tingle and a warm feeling spread through his chest. 

“We are going back to Richmond to spread word about this nest and its changes, and to keep an eye on the region. We’re going to move back here soon.” John loudly announced to everyone, “This is important. Do not get into any fights. Do not start any problems. This is the first time in history that my nest and Pakwa’s nest has agreed on something. This is finally our chance to come together as vampires. Merge our nests, share our territories. Get more nests to join us, more mergers. This is our chance to become unstoppable. With our provincial inhibitions removed through this elixir, this holy grail of a blood bag, we no longer have to fight. Everyone knows that we, as vampires, have an extremely difficult time getting along with our own kind, and become extremely territorial when it comes to nests and grouping. Fights breaking out amongst us, whole nests are destroyed by other nests-” 

Pakwa suddenly murmurs loud enough for everyone to heat, “Yes, like when your people came and completely destroyed my entire tribe.” 

John drove on, completely ignoring Pakwa’s interjection, “-whole species and bloodlines of vampires fighting and attacking to extinction. But no more. We no longer have to worry about that. We no longer have to battle, we can finally come together. With this gift from god, we no longer are at each other’s throats. So starting now, fighting, arguing, wrongdoing amongst each other is strictly prohibited. Any questions?” 

This was Tanner’s chance, he stepped forward and raised his hand, “This is a great plan, there is, however, one problem. It has come to my attention that th-” 

The door to the dining room slams open as an irate, and extremely drunk vampire burst through the door. 

“You!” Tanner quickly recognized him as Aiden. “I told you to stay away from my girl!” Aiden’s mate is extremely flirtatious, and rather elastic when it comes to loyalty. The last time Tanner had seen Aiden and his girl, Nessy, was two weeks ago when Tanner first got here. Nessy flirted with Tanner, and Aiden threatened Tanner. 

“What are you talk-” Tanner never got to finish his sentence as Aiden had swung a rusty ax straight at his neck. His split jugular and carotid gushed blood all over the room and sprinkled all over the other vamps like red rain. After another swing of the ax, his head rolled off his shoulders. An awkward silence took over the room. 

John sighed loudly, “Alright, starting NOW, no more fighting or arguments.” Mina stepped forward, an amused look on her face. 

“Yes, we are going to keep this up, so from now on, there will be punishment for fighting or arguing. You hurt another vamp, you spend a week in the cellar in one of the cages. You kill another vamp, the leader of that nest will come to our council and we will decide whether you get killed, lose a fang, break every bone in your body, whatever. Any questions?” 

Another vamp, known as Melissa, from Boss’s nest raised her hand. “All of Pakwa’s nest is moving here? All 325 vampires are going to come here to this farm?” 

Mina smiled at Melissa reassuringly. “Of course, we are going to buy more land first. Maybe we’ll just buy the farm next door and merge the two lands together.” 

Aiden raised his hand. “Who the hell are you? Boss, why is she in charge. Why is she telling us what to do? Some 150 year old bitch...she's not even two hundred yet!” 

The air in the room dropped several degrees. Mina’s amused expression fell, replaced with one of impatience and anger.

Boss stepped forward to intervene, but a glare from Mina had him backing down. “Who am I?” Mina slowly walked forward, her hips swayed as she neared Aiden. Her every move was sultry and intoxicating as she cut through the crowd, stalking her target. 

“Who am I?” she repeated, this time, the question a hissing whisper, burning at the vamp’s ears, “I’m Mina Harker.” As Mina spoke her fingernails lengthened, quickly becoming needle sharp and knife thin. Her fangs were slowly protruding from her face. “Who am I? Boy, your kind tremble before me. I wooed an original, and brought him to his knees, had him turn me, taking everything he had to offer.” 

She leaned forwards until whispering into Aiden’s ear, “I am also the one who drank every last drop of his blood,” She let her tongue snake out and flick against his ear, “...then ripped his heart out.” 

She suddenly shoved her hand straight into Aiden’s chest and grabbing his heart, ripped her arm back out. She straightened up and turned to the rest of the room, “That should cover the death if your vamp, Ashton.” She dropped his heart to the floor. Aiden’s body started turning gray all over. His head lolled backwards, and black blood started dripping out of his every orifice. 

“Any more questions?”

 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

 

Sam and Dean stepped into the small condemned house on the edge of the town. It was getting dark outside and there was no way they could sneak the vamp they had captured into their hotel room, since it was located right outside a neighborhood and was under constant surveillance by an overly religious volunteer church group of women who clearly believe that their husbands are cheating on them...and that prostitution is somehow prevalent in Minnewaukan, North Dakota.

The town was small, with a little more than 200 people. If anyone was a prostitute, the entire town would know before that person even had a chance to advertise themselves. But wherever there are oppressive gender roles and hard-core religious rules to follow, along with stupidly high standards, there are prudes. At least in Jen the Vampire’s experience. Dean rolled his eyes. This girl can talk the hind legs off a donkey. 

“...and then when I walked back from the store, his sister was waiting at the kitchen table! Can you believe that? But then, when I walked back home that night, she never called me, and I was like ‘why even say you want to come over when you won't even call?’ Oh, and the whole time her ex-boyfriend was sitting in the parking lot with three cups of coffee, not four! I was like ‘how could you? you kn-” 

Dean yelled, “SHUT UP! PLEASE! For god’s sake shut the fuck up!” 

Sam had tied Jen to a chair in the basement of the house they were squatting at, and she woke up only fifteen minutes ago...she hasn’t closed her mouth since. 

“I’m sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous.” Dean turned to Sam, “Please, man, gag her! Please!” 

“Wait, no! I'll be quiet!” Jen jumped in. Sam turned to Dean with an amused smirk on his face. 

“Dude, we came down here to interrogate her. How's she going to talk if she’s gagged?” Jen jumped in again, “I won't talk, I'll just keep my mouth shut. I will only open my mouth to cough, or sneeze, or eat. OR if you want me to talk, then I will talk, UNLESS, you are-” 

“OH MY GOD! Please, for the love of all that is sacred, shut your mouth!” Dean yelled at her with an exasperated look on his face. Sam was laughing loudly in the background. Jen quickly replied to Dean with a, “Sorry! Sorry! I will be quiet now.” 

Sam and Dean sat in the plastic chairs that they had brought into the room. About ten seconds later, “Hey, is it just me, or is it kind of drafty in here? I feel like…” the rest of Jen’s sentence trailed off into a whisper at a glare from Dean. Sam chuckled to himself. Dean turned back to him. “Alright, so the last blueprints that the farm had made are from the 1940s. Do you think it's possible that they haven’t renovated it in 70 years?” Sam shook his head, “No, I mean look at these blueprints, they are made for a small family, and from what we’ve seen on our trips to the farm, it has several new wings that are not on this blueprint.” Dean looked at the paper, “You’re right. What now?” Sam turned towards Jen. Dean turned to look at her expectantly, she was disgustedly attempting and failing to blow a spiderweb away from her face. She most definitely had not been following along with the conversation. It was a really quite hilarious picture. She kept leaning away from the web and blowing at it until her chair nearly tipped over and she somehow managed to get her balance back. When she finally looked away from the web and saw Sam and Dean staring at her with strange looks on their faces, she finally asked. “What?” Sam smiled and Dean shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. Sam finally asked her, “Can you describe the layout of the farm to us?”Jen looked at them. “So you two are the hunters right?” Dean quickly looked to Sam who glared angrily back, he finally turned to Jen. 

“What are you talking about?” She blinked at him. “Well, I heard from this guy they’re keeping, Cas, that you’re hunters who kill monsters. Like, werewolves, I didn’t even know they existed! And vampires, he called us vamps. He said that he was like, bait or something...” 

Sam ground his teeth in anger, Jen continued, “At first I was like whaaaa? But then I believed him, because-” Sam silenced her with a piece of duct tape and turned to Dean with a look that said, ‘What did I tell you?’ he jerked his head in the direction of the hallway, which they went out to speak in private. 

Dean murmured, “I told you so.” Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, “Told me so? What do you mean told me so? I was the one who said-” Dean interrupts him, “I told you they are sneaking in behind our backs. I told you that he gave us away!” Sam huffed, “Now what? We no longer have the element of surprise on our side.” Dean thought silently for a second. “I guess now we have to rely on our strength and pyro-skills.” Sam laughed, “Pyro-skills?” Dean rolled his eyes. They started walking up the basement stairs, “Maybe pyrokinetics…” Dean waved Sam off. Sam stood in the living room facing a wall which they had drawn a basic outline of the farm’s exits and entrances from what they remember. “So I guess we’re going to have to go with my first plan.” Sam muttered to Dean. Dean crossed his arm and turned to Sam,  “Which was?” Sam stared at the outline for another second.”Burn this mother down.”

 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

 

Dean parked the Impala in front of the town’s only hardware store, Jack’s Hammers n’ Nails.

“Jack’s Hammers and Nails…” Dean laughs to himself, “Tell you what, I would really like to get hammered...and nailed. In that order.” Sam made a face, “Gross, Dean. Come on!” Dean just laughed and shrugged. “What was that?” Sam asked again. Dean shrugged, “I don’t know man, its just a joke...I’m in a really weird mood right now. You now, right before I have a big project to work on, or whatever.” Sam just stared at Dean for a beat, “Ok...um...we already have the plumbing kit...so we need you to get the gas tanks, kerosene, motor oil, diesel fuel, methanol, gunpowder, and petrol. I’ll get the rubber, soap, wire, rope, lighters, matches, goggles, sealant, filters, rubber, straps, and candles. Wait, you never told me what we were going to do with all of this.” 

The plan was to blow up the farm, old school style, with a candle, and a line of gunpowder leading to a wick on a makeshift firebomb in a barrel. The candle would be lit early, and would eventually over the course of a few hours(or minutes depending on the candle) the wick would reach the gunpowder which would ignite and slowly burn until it reached the gas tank inside the barrel.  That whole setup would be placed in the small hidden cellar beneath the farmhouse. The vampires either don’t know about it or never use it(according to Sam’s obsessively detailed, and nerdy notes). That, in combination with the Molotov cocktails, should surprise and confuse the vampires enough. 

Each cocktail contains a patch of rubber and a squirt of dish soap, so as to burn and create a thick noxious cloud of smoke. The barrel also comes equipped with an entire tire, so as to fill the entire house with smoke. They refrained from adding any shrapnel to the barrel, however, since that would cause an unnecessary amount of sound and damage. They also stole a whole professional plumbing kit. They were going to use the wire and steel hook, along with a plumbing camera, to install what Dean likes to call ‘exploding tampons’. A small wooden box containing several sealed mini-Molotov cocktails smothered in petroleum jelly is placed deep within the pipes using the wire and hook, a thin flammable wick fashioned out of unraveled rope is connected to the Molotov within the box through a small hole. This makeshift wick then stretches all along the pipe until there is an available exit point. The vamps only ever use toilets and ground water outlets, so there are many dry available pipes for Sam and Dean to utilize. 

Finally, using the same plumbing equipment, several makeshift smoke bombs made out of plastic water bottles, petroleum jelly, petrol, and rubber washers will be inserted into the farmhouse’s primitive ventilation. Of course all the bombs, cocktails, and wicks contain vaporized, dried, or liquid bags of deadman’s  blood waiting to be ‘mist-ified’. Some also include hardened deadman’s blood clots, all of which will go into the air and easily disarm, or at least weaken, the vamps. 

After Dean explained all this, Sam asked, “Don’t you think that’s a little overkill?” Dean leaned back in his chair and replied, “I think having to fight off forty vamps is overkill. I’m not about to risk your- our lives when we can be better safe than sorry.” 

Sam thought for a second, then turned to Dean, “So...we’re basically going to fill the farmhouse’s air supply with deadman’s blood...that’s pretty fucking toxic.” Dean raised an eyebrow, “Yeah that’s the point.” Sam shook his head, “No, I mean the air is going to be full of bacteria, and maybe-no-definitely viruses. That’s a frickin' biohazard. How do you expect us to walk around in there?” Dean reached out to mess up Sam’s hair. Sam made a face and leaned out of the way. Dean still managed to reach his face and rub it annoyingly. 

“I already thought of that. That’s what the rubber, filter, sealant, goggles, and straps are for. Oh, remember the filter has to be a 4p level filter, and the sealant has to be heavy duty, heat resistant, you know, the kind they use on decks and not that plant-based shit, it won’t hold worth a damn.” Sam looked at him incredulously, “You’re going to make us homemade gas masks?” Dean looked at him with an exaggeratedly offended face, “Hey! I don’t like that skeptical tone in your voice, Sammy. Of course I’m not going to makes us ‘homemade gas masks’” Dean mimicked Sam with a stupid sounding high pitched voice, “I’m going to makes us Dean-made, biohazard level, functional, and stylish gas masks. Don’t worry, Samantha, I’ll make sure yours is adjustable so that you don’t have to mess up your hair.” Dean reached again and this time he managed to reach Sam’s hair and muss it up quite well. 

“Dean! Dean, stop! Ughh! What’s wrong with you?” Dean laughed and got out of the Impala. “You know what, now that I think of it, we should get oxygen masks too...just in case.” Dean said as he stepped into the lousy heating of the hardware store they had been parked in front of for twenty minutes. The smell of sawdust and car grease was comforting to his nose. The lady organizing the shelves in front of the cash register gave Sam a weird look, he quickly pulled out his phone to look at his reflection. His hair was a mess. He glared at Dean who laughed. Sam shoved the shopping cart into him roughly in retaliation, which only made Dean laugh harder. 

“Alright...here, take this cart. I’ll get my own so we can shop separately and then rendezvous in the back to check our list. That way we’ll save time, and make sure we don’t miss anything.” 

An hour of shopping later, Sam and Dean were standing in the back of Jack’s Hammers and Nails arguing about which kerosene brand they should buy. “Dude, YOU don’t know what your talking about! I know how to use this stuff. I’m the one who’s going to make the bombs!” Sam looked around anxiously to make sure no one had heard that, “SHHHHH! Dumbass! You can’t yell shit like that in the middle of a store! We should get the Jet-A Kerosene, its way higher quality, it lasts longer, faster, better, stronger, and-” Dean interrupted him angrily, “I am going to get K1 Kerosene, because when I make the bombs, I know that it doesn’t matter. It’s going to burn anyway! Also, I want to save money so that I have enough left over to get more important supplies, like oxygen masks.” Sam rolled his eyes, “Fine! Fine. But if something goes wrong, I’m blaming it on-” 

“Me, I know. Got it.” Sam sighed loudly, “I don’t mean-” 

“NO Sam, I got it.” Sam rubbed his eyes, and turned back to the list in his hand, “Alright, do you have the petrol?” Dean nodded, holding up two red jugs of petrol. Sam continued, “I have the sealant,” He held up a tube of Deck-o-seal. Dean nodded approvingly, “and I have the goggles.” Sam then held up two sets of heavy duty goggles. Dean scowled at them. 

Sam stared thoughtfully at the list, “Do we still need to buy these? I mean, aren’t we getting oxygen masks? Why do we still need them?” Dean stared at the masks for a little longer. He thought about Cas needing a mask, but knew better than to say anything at this point. Cas deserved to choke. The feeling of betrayal stung Dean more than he would like to confess. 

“Yeah...uh...we still need them. I brought this plastic tubing so that we can modify the oxygen masks.” Dean pointed at a very long, clear, plastic tube. Sam looked at it for a minute and asked, “Aren’t you going to need two?” Dean shook his head, “No, I am going to cut this long one up into three-er-two pieces, and then I am going to use the filters to...are you going to kill him?” 

Sam was taken off guard, “What?” Dean looked at Sam seriously, “Are you going to kill him? Are you going to kill Cas? Just be straight with me, man.” 

Sam huffed. His jaw locked up and he turned to Dean angrily. Sometimes, Sam scared Dean, something he will never admit, but sometimes, when Sam gets really angry or...really...anything to the point of bloodlust, Dean gets a little nervous and his heart beats faster. Sometimes, when it's really bad, he sweats a little...or gets a little shaky. It was worse when Sam was soulless. 

It’s hard to look Sam in the eye when he’s in one of those moods, rare as they are, but Dean is really good at hiding emotions, especially fear. Little did he know that Sam feared him much more than he could fear Sam, and while he can admit to himself sometimes that Sam scares him, Sam can never admit, even when it’s obvious, even when it’s staring him dead in the face, even when he’s all by himself alone, that he is afraid of Dean. He can always admit to any other emotion, whether it be love, happiness, sadness, pain, anger, fear of other things, but he really can never admit that he fears Dean. 

“Why do you care? Why does it matter to you? It's because you are on his side. Castiel can never make a mistake. He’s flawless as the day God created him.” 

“No, Sam, it’s not like that-” 

“So what’s it like? I don’t understand! How are you not completely pissed at him? Did he do something for you? Something I don’t know about?” 

“No, Sam. I just-” 

“You just what? You just think he can do no wrong?” Dean glared at Sam, “I just want to know if you plan on killing him. We are on the same side, you idiot. Do you want me to save him if I see him on my way through the house, or kill him or what?” Sam threw the goggles roughly back into the cart, “I don’t know man, and I don’t care...if we find him...we save him...I don’t want to let him off the hook so easily, and we can still use him.” Dean nodded in agreement, “Ok. Alright.” 

“But I refuse to waste a single penny on him We are not buying any supplies for him. He can either survive on his own without any outside help, or just die.” Dean looked at the goggles, and nodded slowly. They checked out their items and quickly drove back to the condemned house. They stored their items and checked on their prisoner. 

 

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Castiel heard his cell door open and eagerly turned around, expecting to see Jen. His stomach dropped and his face lost all color as he watched Paul slip quietly into his cell with cuffs, the kidnap sack spilling out of his pocket, and some kind of round cylinder clipped to his belt. He pulled on it and part of it came out, then he flicked it and it expanded to a long stick of sorts. A long blunt object useful for hitting, by the looks of it. 

Paul approached Castiel, whose eyes were wider than saucers, staring at Paul with fear. “Alright, Johnny. Come on, stand up.” Castiel started sweating as he slowly started making his way out of the cot. He noticed Paul’s face twist in anger as he stood up, and his stomach clenched, mind racing, trying to think of what he did wrong already. 

Paul unlocked the cuffs and pulled Castiel’s arms behind him roughly and angrily. He growled in Castiel’s ear, “You make a fucking peep and I will rip you to shreds.” He made a point of grabbing Castiel’s privates, and Castiel’s whole body tensed up, shoulders rising defensively as he turned to look at Paul. Castiel tried to lean away, but Paul's other hand squeezing tightly at the back of his neck kept him from moving anywhere. “Understand?” Paul hissed, cold gray eyes staring deep into Castiel’s who gulped and shuddered. 

Castiel began whispering, “Y-yes-” Paul stepped even closer into Castiel’s space, and squeezed his hand between his legs. Castiel gasped loudly and pulled at his cuffs, “Y-yes, sir.” Paul smirked, “Good boy.” 

A few minutes later, Castiel was standing in what he assumed to be the barn, head covered with the kidnap sack from before. He could hear Paul moving around. A few seconds later, the sack was lifted from his head and he noticed he was surrounded by strange farm equipment. Paul took off his handcuffs and started pulling Castiel’s shirt off. Castiel started asking frantically, “What-What are you-?” 

Paul pulled him roughly from his position by his arm and started dragging him into a metal...cage? Structure? Castiel didn’t know what it would be called, but he recalls seeing farmers putting their life-stock in it. It was made out of metal and wood, the animal would put its head into this giant adjustable metal cuff, and the legs of the animals would be strapped into another four adjustable metal cuffs near the ground to keep it from moving around. The animals would be strapped in either for shearing wool(if it was particularly feisty) or for fertilization. 

The idea made Castiel panic, and he found himself counting the pieces of hay in the ground in front of him as his head was shoved, and the metal cuff was tightened around his neck. The cuff was made for the height of a tall sheep, so he was bent over uncomfortably. His legs were bound tightly into the straps of the structure, which made them spread apart. He felt extremely vulnerable and exposed. 

“Stop shaking, or I’ll make you take off your pants too.” Castiel replied softly, “Yes, sir.” Paul left for a few minutes, enough for Castiel to count 594 pieces of straw. He returned with a piece of rough rope, which he used to tie Castiel’s hands to the bar in front of his head. Paul walked in front of him, and he heard him huff disapprovingly. Paul started unscrewing the bar on which Castiel’s head was strapped, and pushed it up higher until Castiel was almost standing up straight, yet still hunched over. Paul tilted the bar connected to the cuff slightly back until Castiel was staring straight into Paul’s eyes. 

Paul’s eyes lost focus, and his lips parted as he let a finger glide down the side of Castiel’s face. “It’s okay, Johnny. It’s gonna be okay.” Castiel swallowed fearfully. He blinked up at Paul. 

Paul came out of his reverie after Castiel squeezed his eyes shut in growing panic. Paul moved out of Castiel’s line of vision, and Castiel heard something large and metal hit the ground, and then something snapping...open? Castiel sensed Paul walking behind him, a few feet away. 

“Johnny.” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Hmm, not quite right.” Castiel heard a whistling sound, and then felt the sharp, braided, leather of a whip come down on his upper back, he cried out, and tried to lean away from the pain. “Be quiet now, I really don’t want to have to gag you. I thought we were beyond that. Maybe we should save a day just for that rule. Huh Johnny?” 

Castiel started shaking as he thought about how to reply. “Y-yes, Sir.” 

“Wrong answer, and don’t scream this time, or you will regret it.” He heard the whistle of the whip once again as it came down, he tried to contain his pain by biting his lip. “This is your last chance, and then I will whip you five times for every time you answer me incorrectly. Johnny?” 

Castiel tried to think as hard as he could of what he could be saying wrong. “Y-Yes...sir.”   
“Wrong.” Crack. Castiel cries out. “Answer.” Crack. Castiel cried out painfully, as he tried desperately to contain his yelling, but his back screamed as every strike came down harder than the previous one. 

Crack. “Please! Please-” Crack. “How many was that, Johnny?” 

“Three.” Castiel gasped. Sweat ran into his eyes and down his back. Castiel didn’t notice when Paul walked around, and was startled to see him glaring angrily at Castiel. He raised his hand and it came down, striking Castiel painfully on his right cheek. He did it again, and again, and again. Castiel lost count. Entire body shaking, eyes tearing up in pain and humiliation, Castiel never realized how absolutely degrading it felt to get slapped.  

Paul turned his hand and backhanded Castiel across the his left cheek. Paul continued to backhand him repeatedly, anger and aggression driving every strike. Castiel kept trying to pull away as tears streamed down his cheeks. Paul looked so angry, and Castiel didn’t understand what he’s done wrong. 

Castiel started sobbing. Paul kept slapping. 

Eventually, Paul grabbed Castiel by the hair and forced him to look straight back at Paul. “How many times was that, huh?” Castiel sobbed, “I don’t k-know…Please, sir.” Paul took off his belt, walked around Castiel, and started beating him with the belt. The pain was unbearable, Castiel was groaning loudly in pain, too exhausted to cry out in pain. The metal portion of the belt would hit him once every couple strikes. 

He then heard Paul growl, “You better answer me right this time, or you won't be leaving this fucking barn in one piece, you worthless sack of shit. Johnny.” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Wrong answer.” 

“W-why is that the wrong answer? Why! I am saying ‘sir’. Why are you angry? What am I doing wrong? Please. Please, sir. Please. Please, I won’t know the answer unless you tell me. Please! Plea-” Castiel gasped loudly as something hard and plastic(or rubber) came down on his back. Paul walked around as Castiel let out a pain filled scream. The pain was truly unbearable, it was so much that he did not notice when Paul shoved a familiar filthy, foul smelling rag into Castiel’s mouth. Successfully muffling his screams. 

Castiel gagged at how dirty the rag was and tried to spit it out, unsuccessfully. Paul, in his anger, had not noticed the barn’s flickering lights. Paul went to stand behind Castiel, “You want the answer? It’s gonna cost ya. Let me spell it out for you. M.” Whip. “A.” Whip. “S.” Whip. “T.” Whip. “E.” Whip. “R.” Whip. 

Castiel was screaming endlessly into the rag. He was begging, pleading for Paul to stop. “Let me repeat that for you, you know, make sure you got it.” Paul then proceeded to whip the every letter into Castiel. Paul walked around to Castiel’s face, and as he pulled the rag out of Castiel’s mouth, Castiel saw him holding a bloody white electrical wire in his hands; pieces of rusty iron and copper were sticking out of the white rubber, both stained with red, and dripping on the floor and hay of the barn. 

“Johnny.” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and whispered fearfully in between labored breaths, “M-m-master…y-yes...Master.” 

“What did I say about having your eyes shut?” Castiel quickly opened his eyes and looked at Paul pleadingly, who said called him a good boy, but something was wrong. There was none of the strange twisted happiness, or comfort in his voice that had been there at the end of the wrench session. His face was still twisted in anger and discontent. “Now it’s time for your payment.” He said as he stared at Castiel. 

“Wha-What do you mean?” Castiel asked desperately. Paul’s face somehow twisted further into rage as he grabbed Castiel’s jaw roughly. “What do you not understand? Why are you not learning, huh?” He started squeezing Castiel’s jaw painfully. “How do I get this through your thick skull?” Paul looks so angry, Castiel starts believing that he will not make it out of the barn alive. 

The Paul shoves the gag back into castiel’s mouth and whips his back with the wires for so long, Castiel loses his voice from screaming. Then he loses consciousness from the pain. He wakes up to burning hot water being poured on him, and finds himself silently screaming again as his wounds burned, his throat was parched and cracked, and his voice was almost completely gone. “Enjoying the shower? I made sure to add some bath salts for ya.” Paul smirked as he held up two empty salt cans. The salt must’ve gotten in the wounds on his back. 

Paul throws the cans in the empty bucket and picks up the wires which he had left on the floor. They were completely red with blood. Castiel tried desperately to plead, but no sound would reach past his shredded throat. 

The rag was shoved in his mouth, and Paul was back at whipping Castiel. The pain was too much, and Castiel was sure he would die of the pain alone. He knew his back was a mess. Paul kept whipping and whipping. He started losing consciousness again when Paul finally stopped. 

He left the barn for about a minute and returned with another can of salt, which he poured on Castiel’s back. Castiel writhed, and tried his best to wriggle somehow out of the way and that was a big mistake. That somehow made Paul even angier. He started rubbing the salt into the wounds with his hand. Castiel was in so much pain he gagged, and became sure that if Paul doesn’t stop, he will throw up. “You are mine, you will let me do this to you because I own you and you can’t do anything about that.” 

He pulled the stick from earlier out of its sheath in his belt, whipped it open, and started beating Castiel’s legs angrily, swinging with all his strength. Castiel counts fifteen swats before he lost consciousness completely.

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Castiel woke up back in his cot. There was not an inch of his body that was not in pain. The pain in his back was particularly strong, especially since he was laying on it. He quickly came to the realization that he was wearing a shirt again, which, by the feel of it, was soaked through with blood.

He tried to roll over onto his stomach, but attempting to move his legs in anyway was a bad and excruciatingly painful idea. He realized that his wrists were burning for some reason, and a quick survey of them made it clear to Castiel that during his time with Paul, the rope around his wrists had worn out, and destroyed the dressing on them, making them exposed to the burning and chafing of the rope. His wrists were worse than before Jen dressed them. The stitches were all ripped. He had not noticed what had been happening to his wrists in light of all the pain in other parts of his body. 

He could not move without feeling an enormous amount of pain, but at the same time, not moving was causing him pain. He tried to fall back asleep, but the pain was too overwhelming. So he started counting the wooden rafters in the unfinished basement ceiling above him. He counted thirty-six. Then he counted the knots in the wood. He was on knot one-hundred and  forty-three when the door to his cell opened. His first vamp of the night came in with bared teeth.

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Castiel did not understand how he was not dead yet. He was human, and any human in his condition would surely die either from the pain or blood loss by now. 

The vampires who had fed on him had turned him every which way, completely ignoring his softly rasped pleas for them bite him where he is and not move him. They had seen and ignored his blood soaked back, and drank him dry.

Junior came by later to give Castiel some water, food, and pills, as he usually does after every night of feeding. He asked Castiel how he was doing, and when Castiel was too tired to answer, he came closer to check what was wrong with Castiel. He saw Castiel’s injuries, but before he could really do anything about it, Paul came and told him that ‘Boss’ had ordered for this to happen to Castiel. He told Junior he was banned from coming into Castiel’s room. 

After Junior left, Paul waited a couple seconds before he took the rations Junior left for Castiel, saying he was a ‘bad boy’ and that he did not deserve them until he proves that he is a good boy. With one last look of disgust, Paul left Castiel alone in his cell. 

Two days later, Castiel is laying in his cot staring at the stitching in his threadbare pillow. He tried to count the stitches, but they were too close to his face, and it hurt his eyes to focus on them. Castiel was hungry for the first time since his first week at the nest. A combination of small rations, and a lack of appetite had kept him from really feeling pangs of hunger, but now, he hasn’t eaten in two days, and has lost a lot of blood. 

Castiel was also thirsty. So thirsty. Far thirstier than he had ever thought possible. His throat was dry, and it felt as if there was not a single drop of moisture left. He was so dehydrated, he couldn’t even cry. He shook with the need for water. 

He had originally fantasized about Jen coming in and bringing him a whole gallon of water, but after a while he started fantasizing about Junior instead, since Junior had at least tried several times to get something to Castiel. But that also ended very quickly since, every time Junior had attempted to sneak into his cell, Paul had been there to stop him, and after stopping Junior, Paul would stick his fingers into Castiel’s wounds, or start beating Castiel. Every time, he would say to Castiel, “No one can save you from this but me, Johnny.” Junior coming into his cell was no longer a dream, but a nightmare waiting to happen. 

Whenever Castiel heard the squeaking of his cell’s door, he started shaking; his heart would beat twice as fast. He would automatically put up a trembling and bloody hand to protect himself from whatever was going to come to him, and everytime, it would do nothing to protect him. In fact, he would be punished by having his hand beat with the baton for trying to resist Paul in anyway. 

The cell always seemed to get smaller by the day. It felt like the walls were slowly coming together, trapping Castiel more and more every hour. At the beginning of the third day, he was sure that several of his back wounds were infected. He could feel the fever racking his body, and the terrible, horrible pain that he felt burning in his back. 

He lay staring at his cell door; images of Paul coming in haunting him, making it impossible to relax, close his eyes, anything. All his fantasies had turned into nightmares. He couldn’t even count, and that kept him in a constant state of panic and anxiety. There was no comfort, and no way out. He was hapless, hopeless, and helpless. He was utterly and truly alone.

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Dean sat cross legged in the middle of the living room floor, staring up at his masterplan, and around him at his masterpieces. Sam sat next to him surrounded by several piles of books and newspapers. 

Jen was sitting cross legged in between them, her hands handcuffed in front of her so they can keep an eye on them. It had been decided by both of them that she was probably going to hurt herself again if she was left in the basement alone. A piece of duct tape was affixed firmly to her face, and every time her hand inched up to remove it, a death glare from Dean stopped her. 

The masterplan Dean was staring at was his perfectly drawn and detailed, to-scale blueprint of the farmhouse and its surrounding structures with all their posts and steps written and drawn in. Even Sam had to admit it was beautiful. The masterpieces on the ground surrounding Dean were the bombs he had so skillfully crafted for the sake of this amazing battle. 

They had everything ready and could really start the battle at anytime, but after consulting the soul scroll and noticing that the number of vamps has increased once again, they decided to wait until more vamps showed up so as to kill the most amount of bloodsuckers possible. Another week will do, or more.Who knows? 

Sam was already searching and getting ready for the next case. Now they were just going to relax and wait for the right time. 

“Hey, Sam, do you think I would look good in a jumper? Like a jumper-jacket?” 

Sam looks up at him, used to the weird questions and stupid jokes that Dean always produces before a huge fight. The nervous and excited energy buzzing around Dean started making sense to Sam when he started recalling that Dean used to act this exact way back when he and Dad used to prepare for big battles together. The thing is, Dean hasn’t acted this way in a long time. He is usually depressed and cynical before big fights. Then again, there was that one time in Salina, so Sam came to the conclusion this was a every-now-and-then thing. 

“I don’t know, Dean. Since when do you care anyways?” 

Dean gave Sam a look, and Sam instantly knew that a bad joke was about to come his way. “You’re right Sammy, I think I’d look better in a bomber jacket anyway. Get it? Get it, Sammy?” he repeatedly poked Sam in the arm with each ‘get it’, annoying Sam to a new level.

“Yes De-” 

“Do ya get it, Sammy?” 

“I get it!” Jen piped up, the piece of duct tape, which had been her mouth,4 was now on her chin, like a goatee. 

“See she gets it. Sammy do you get it?” 

“Dean I get it. I said I got it.” 

Jen flicked her eyes back and forth between them, then she said, “I thought it was funny. And clever.” 

“See, Sam, she thought it was ‘funny and clever’.” Sam took the piece of duct tape off of Jen’s chin and stuck it on Dean’s mouth. Jen laughed as Dean pulled the duct tape off. 

“Alright, clearly, Sam, you are jealous.” 

“Jealous? Jealous of what?” Dean continued, “You are jealous and grouchy. You’re like Oscar the Grouch. Except you can’t fit in a trash can.” 

Jen replied, “He probably can.” 

Dean pointed his thumb at Sam and added, “You’re right, and if he were to get into a trash can, and I took a picture, it would look like a scene from inception. It would be like russian dolls, but with trash.”

Sam snorted and replied sarcastically, “Good one.”

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Castiel watched his cell door open, fear in every part of his body. 

When Paul walked in, Castiel whimpered, and his hand twitched closer to his body in fear. Paul walked over to Castiel, then grabbed him by the back of the neck and forcefully pulled him up into a sitting position. He grabbed Castiel’s hair, and pulled his head back so he was forced to look up at Paul. 

“Johnny?” 

Castiel whispered, eyes looking deep into Paul’s, “Yes, Master?” 

Paul smiled, and stopped pulling at Castiel’s hair. He started stroking it, and then he sat next Castiel. That’s when Castiel noticed the bag in his hand. Paul emptied the bag into his lap, and three bottles of water fell out of it. Castiel instantly tried to grab one with his messed up hands and was slapped for it. Hard. He instantly hunched over, ready to cry, but had no tears left to shed and sobbed at the thought of going another three days without water just for being impatient. 

He heard the word, “Please, Master.” being whispered repeatedly; it took him a minute to realize that they were coming out of his mouth. Paul grabbed his chin and pulled it to look into Castiel’s eyes, “Do you want the water, Johnny?” Castiel looked looked pleadingly at Paul and whispered desperately, “Yes, Master. I want the water, please, Master. I need the water, Master.” Paul leaned closer to Castiel, and whispered softly, “and what about me, Johnny?” Castiel grabbed at Paul’s shirt, replied, “I need you, Master.” 

Paul picked up one water bottle, unscrewed the top, and put it up to Castiel’s parched lips. Paul only tipped it slightly, so Castiel only got one sip of water. He then pulled it away, causing Castiel to shake in desperation as he tried to lean towards the water bottle for more. Paul screwed the top back on the bottle, causing Castiel to whimper. Paul stood abruptly and spoke in a dangerously low voice.

“Show me how much you need the water.” Paul started undoing his belt, and proceeded to pull out his mostly flaccid penis. Castiel looked up at Paul in puzzlement, who motioned to his member. Castiel cocked his head at Paul whispered, “What? What do you want me to do, Master?” Paul took Castiel’s hand and pressed it against his genitalia. ”I want you to touch it, Johnny.”

Castiel blinked owlishly, “Um…” his hand remained motionless where Paul had left it. Paul stared at him in frustration for a minute, but then a strange look came over his face, “You really don’t know what to do, do ya, Johnny?” Castiel continued to cock his head at Paul in confusion. 

“That’s really hot.” Castiel became even more confused as he replied, “It’s not really hot, actually. Just warm.” He felt Paul’s penis become harder and warmer. “You’ve never done anything like this before?” Castiel looked up at Paul and shook his head. Paul opened Castiel’s hand and wrapped his fingers around his filling penis. He pushed Castiel’s hand in an up and down motion, rubbing his penis. 

Castiel clumsily continued the rhythm after Paul let go of his wrist, but his hand kept slipping. Paul groaned loudly, and Castiel looked up at him in wonder. Was he in pain or...it took Castiel a second, but he recalled that touching another man’s genitalia was an intimate gesture. He knew that only lovers would touch each other like this...and Paul was most definitely not his lover. 

“Master, I don’t…” His words were drowned out by another one of Paul's loud groans. Something was coming out of the tip of Paul’s penis and dripping down on Castiel’s hand, making it more slick. 

Suddenly, Castiel was pushed down off the cot so that he knelt on the hard floor. “Ugh, you’re so fuckin’ hot.” He encouraged Castiel to continue stroking him. Paul swiped his thumb through some of his precum and stuck it between Castiel’s lips. “Suck, bitch. Suck on it with those gorgeous lips...cock-sucking lips.” 

Castiel tried not to gag, but Paul’s thumb had been salty and sucking on it made him feel...well, he didn’t really know. Dirty...and sad. And maybe a little worthless. 

Paul moaned again, his breathing becoming labored. “Oh, yeah Johnny. Look at me with those baby blues, ugh. Fuck. Too fuckin’ blue, Johnny. Too fuckin’ blue. Wait till I cover those pretty lashes with my cum, you filthy whore.” Paul grabbed Castiel’s chin and pulled it towards him. 

“Look at me, or I swear I’ll fuck you up.” Paul stuck his thumb to the first knuckle in Castiel’s mouth, his other fingers holding onto Castiel’s chin. “Suck on it-fuck I’m close.” Paul pushed Castiel’s hand off of his penis and pulled him by the hair to get closer to his red and leaking penis. Paul stroked himself with quick, expert tugs. “Stick your tongue out, Johnny. Stick it out.” Castiel stuck his tongue of his mouth in a way he had seen a child do before to his sibling. “Not like that- god you’re so fuckin perfect, so innocent. Stick it out with your mouth open...wider. Like this.” Paul then demonstrated for Castiel how he should stick his tongue out. “Yeah, like that. Fuck I’m gonna come.” 

Castiel flinched when semen started shooting out of Paul’s penis and onto his face. “Oh, yeah, Johnny.” It kept coming, so Castiel clamped his mouth shut and tried to turn his face out of the way, but Paul held him in place by his hair. “Ughhh, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” 

As the last drop of semen came out of Paul’s penis, Cas stared up at Paul with wide eyes as he tried to process what had just happened. “God, Johnny, you look good in white.” Paul kneeled down and put his hands on either side of Castiel’s face, and started rubbing the semen in with his hand. Some of the semen had gotten in Castiel’s eyelashes, and some had definitely gotten into his hair. “Your eyelashes are so pretty, Johnny, all thick and dark. They look better with my cum on them though.” 

The sensation that Castiel had felt earlier furthered bloomed in his chest, like a disgusting, pus-filled cloud of smoke. He felt his face heat up and his heart sink. Paul scraped some of the semen off with his finger and then posed it in front of Castiel’s lips, looking at him expectantly. Castiel felt his shoulders tense more than they already had somehow, as he continued to stare at Paul. “Come on, don’t make me ask twice.” Castiel felt his stomach cramp and bile start climbing up his throat as he parted his lips for Paul, who did not move his finger closer, simply continued to hold it in front of Castiel’s mouth. Castiel finally understood that Paul wanted him to lean forward and suck on the finger of his on volition, and so he wrapped his lips around Paul’s index finger and started licking the semen off. 

It was salty and a little sour. Castiel had the urge to pull away and spit it out, but Paul probably wouldn’t want that. Paul moaned “Oh, fuck. I could come again just watching you do that, Johnny. You’re so perfect. So perfect for me.” Paul continued to rub and admire Castiel’s semen-stained face for another few minutes. 

Finally, Paul stood up and dropped the water bottle from before on the floor along with a granola bar. He unscrewed another bottle and emptied half of it in the drain on the other side of Castiel’s cell, and dropped it too in front of Castiel. He took the rest of the things he brought and walked out of the cell without another word. 

Castiel sat covered in quickly drying semen on his cell floor for another minute as that dark cloud expanded to cover his whole body, and his heart twisted in his chest painfully. He shakily reached for the water bottle on the ground and he realized what this new sensation was. He wiped some of the semen off his cheek with his sleeve and decided that emotions are horrible. Tears ran down his cheeks as he started drinking from the bottle, and the cloud grew even bigger, as he was further introduced to this new human emotion: shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With every comment, we’ll shave a month off the wait time for the next chapter!
> 
> Lol kidding, but seriously, comments are the fuel that keep us going. 
> 
> XOXO


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for heaps of noncon and torture. 
> 
> Chapter by SaraPBateman. Beta’d by Ohcassie. 
> 
> Enjoy:)

Saint Jude, glorious apostle, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, WHACK the name of the traitor has caused you to be forgotten by many. WHACK But the Church honors and invokes you universally as the patron of difficult and desperate cases. WHACK Pray for me who am so miserable. WHACK Make use, I implore you, of that particular privilege accorded to you to bring visible and speedy help where help was almost despaired of. WHACK Come to my assistance in this great need that I may receive the consolation and help of heaven in all my necessities, WHACK tribulations and sufferings, particularly — Our lord’s servant, Paul, whose anger is too much for my vessel WHACK, soul, and mind to withstand, and bear the burden of my punishment — and that I may bless God with you and all the elect throughout all eternity-WHACK.

I promise you, O blessed Saint Jude-WHACK, to be ever mindful of this great favor, and I will never-WHACK cease to honor you as my special and powerful patron and do all in my power to encourage devotion to you-WHACK. Amen.

Saint Jude, pray for us and for all who honor you and invoke-WHACK your aid.

“JOHNNY! I AM RUNNIN’ OUT OF PATIENCE, AND YOU ARE RUNNIN’ OUT OF CHANCES!” 

Master lifted the make-shift switch over his head as he prepared to ask Castiel the question again. 

“So start talkin’, you stupid fuck. It’s truthin’ time; who are you working with?” 

Castiel squirmed in his spot bent over Master’s desk in anticipation of the next hit, “No one, Master- I am not working for- or -with anyone.” 

Humiliation ran through Castiel as the switch came down too high on the back of his thigh. Master had taught him a few rules in the past couple of weeks. Rule #1: Paul owns Johnn-er-Castiel; rule #2: Paul is Master; rule #3: Johnny needs Master; and now, rule #4, Johnny’s always gotta tell the truth. Master had taken Johnny to his room, which was completely detached from the farmhouse. It had an office with a bed in it and a very large make-shift bathroom. Johnny could see everything from the small living room/office/bedroom that Master had, since the bathroom has no door. Master had started out by asking Johnny a simple questions about his vessel’s hair and eye color, which Johnny answered with ease. After a while the questions became more aggressive and accusatory, eventually, Master asked about whether or not Johnny knew what hunters were, and that is when Castiel remembered that his name was not actually Johnny, and that Paul was not really his Master. He recalled his old life which he had forgotten, and remembered Sam and Dean. He lied to Paul, and being the terrible liar that he is, Paul saw right through him. Paul made Castiel take off his pants and shoes, then he handcuffed Castiel’s hands behind his back and bent him over a desk wearing nothing but a thin shirt, handcuffs and a small pair of plain white boxers. Paul took a long thin twig from a tree branch, and started snapping Castiel on his legs and the bottoms of his feet. 

“Why are you lying, Johnny? Don’t you love me? Don’t you respect me?” 

Castiel swallowed, his throat clicking loudly in the quiet of Paul’s room. “O-of course I-of course your Johnny r-respects you, and l-l-loves you, Master.” 

Castiel’s legs are shaking in pain from the welts and from the effort of standing in the same strange position for so long. They are also covered in large, painful, dark, bruises from when Paul beat him viciously with the ‘extendable stick’. The bruises are now covered in painful red welts, and Castiel thinks that some of the welts may be bleeding. His back is bleeding and aching as the untended, infected wounds on his back stretch and twist with Castiel’s position over the desk. His hands are suffering from the same abuse. They are handcuffed painfully behind his back, bleeding everywhere, with all the stitched skin ripped open once more. His eyesight is blurred and hazy, and his ears are ringing loudly as his fever continues to climb and ravage his body. There is not a millimeter on Castiel’s body that is not screaming in pain. Castiel waits for Paul’s swtich to come down, but instead he hears a soft groan. 

Ever since the incident with the water bottles and food, Paul’s demeanor with Castiel has become less predictable. He would beat Castiel brutally, needlessly so, and then a minute later, he would start telling Castiel how beautiful his eyes are, how crazy Johnny makes Paul, how much he belongs to Paul. 

He would also touch Castiel more often, and for longer periods of time. His fingers would linger on Castiel’s skin, cradling the back of his neck, touching his lips, brushing his cheeks. The longer the touch, the more frantic the words that followed it. Castiel’s skin is constantly crawling with fear and revulsion in the presence of Paul, and at the thought of paul touching him...even more so than the thought of Paul beating or torturing him. The way Paul looks at him always intensifies and prolongs these feelings. Sometimes, when he is in the middle of beating Castiel, he would just stop and stare at Castiel for an unnecessarily long period of time. Just looking and tracing with his eyes.

“I love when you call yourself mine, Johnny. You gotta know what that does to me, don’t ya?” 

Castiel gasped loudly when the next hit came directly on his...left buttcheek. His face flushed red with humiliation as he realized how obscene he must look. He remembers Dean making a comment once about someone having a ‘nice ass’, and although he still does not understand why humans find butts, or asses, a medium of beauty, he thinks that Paul may be staring at his ass right now. He squirmed in his spot at the thought, and heard another groan.

“Come on, Johnny, we can be doing so much better things right now if you would just tell me the truth.” 

Paul whacked Castiel a couple more times, each time higher up on his thigh than before, the last on landing on his butt again.

“Come on, Johnny. Last chance.” 

Castiel took in a shaky breath and weighed the risk of telling Paul the truth. If he tells paul the truth, then he could be putting Sam and Dean in danger, and he would be betraying their trust completely. However, Paul might continue to torment him despite him giving away the Winchesters. If he continues to lie, the beatings may keep escalating.

“Master, there is no one...I-Your Johnny is…not working for-” 

Paul suddenly grabbed Castiel by the small chain between his handcuffs, and ripped him up into a standing position, causing Castiel to cry out in pain, and start shaking uncontrollably as his wrists throbbed painfully, and the skin tore even more.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, you piece of fuckin’ shit,” Paul grabbed Castiel’s arm and pulled him into the bathroom, he then flipped on the bathtub faucet. “This is your last chance, Johnny. You will tell me who you work for, and you will tell the truth.” 

The water was gushing out of the faucet at an alarming rate, and soon the bathtub was half full, and well on its way to being completely full. 

“Master...Johnny works for no-only you.” Without really knowing why, Castiel started feeling very apprehensive; Paul’s hand tightened painfully around the back of Castiel’s neck, giving away his anger. 

Suddenly, Castiel’s head was being plunged underwater. This was a very strange sensation for Castiel since he’s never had his head underwater before-especially as a human, and right away he forgot that humans couldn’t breath under water and took in a big breath. His choked, and he instantly tried to pull his head out of the water, but Paul’s hand at the nape of his neck kept him from going anywhere. After a few terrifying moments, Paul pulled him out. 

“You ready to answer now?”

Castiel gasped for air, and as he opened his mouth to answer, Paul shoved him back in. Castiel tried to remember how humans could go underwater for longer than a second, it can’t be this painful for them, right? As Castiel breathed in and swallowed more water, Paul’s hand tightened around the nape of his neck. He started trying to buck, but his position on his knees, which were flush against the bathtub, prevented him from standing or even finding a way to straighten up. His hands being cuffed behind his back meant that he couldn’t even push against the bathtub’s edge, which was digging painfully into Castiel’s ribs. 

Paul finally pulled him up, and he started coughing, gasping and sobbing, as his lungs burned in the most painful manner. How did humans keep from breathing under water? How does one keep from breathing in any situation? Is it the same underwater as it is out of water? He opened his eyes to Paul kneeling next to him, face inches away from his, 

“How’s the water, Johnny?” he said with a smirk. 

Castiel stared at him for a minute, and between gasps of breath he cocked his head at Paul in confusion...maybe humans did drink water when they swam. No that can’t be right, he knows that some humans spend whole days by the water, in swimming pools, and beaches; human bodies cannot consume such large amounts of water, and human pain tolerance is too low for them to be able to stand being in the water so long if they swallow and breath the water. 

“It tastes like iron, Master.” 

Paul raised an eyebrow in confusion at Castiel’s response, who continued to stare back at Paul with a very focused eyes. “What?” 

“You- M-master asked Cas- his Johnny-how the water is… and the water, it tastes faintly of iron.” 

Paul’s eyebrows drew together in a threatening glare, his fingers slid up from the nape of Castiel’s neck and into his hair. He pulled Castiel’s hair threateningly, as his fist slowly rose up aiming at Castiel’s face, 

“You think you’re fuckin’ funny? You think you’re a smart aleck all of a sudden, you worthless piece of shit?” However, because of Castiel’s panicked and confused expression, Paul realized that Castiel had been genuinely trying to answer his question, and laughed. “Seriously, where were you raised? You are one weird dude.” 

Then without any warning, Paul shoved Castiel’s head back into the water. Castiel still couldn’t figure out how to keep from breathing. He took in another mouthful of rusty bathwater, and his lungs were on fire. Black and white dots peppered his vision. He tried to pull back, but once again, Paul’s hold was just too strong, now, his fingers were tangled in Castiel’s hair. When Paul pulled Castiel’s head out the water this time, Castiel pushed with all his might backwards until his back hit the floor. In between gasps and coughs, pleas and sobs burst out of his mouth, and tears ran down his face. It really was so painful, he felt like he was dying in the slowest most painful way. Maybe this is what Paul was trying to do, kill Castiel. 

“No more, please, Mas-” 

“If you want me to stop, then you need to start talkin’.” 

“Please, Master, I swear, there’s nobody! No hunters, I don’t even know what you are talking about.” Paul pulled Castiel off the floor and started pushing his head towards the water by his neck. Castiel tried to resist by pulling away. “No, no, no, no, no, please, no! Please! Master! NO-” once again he was submerged, the pain in his lungs made him want to scream, and very quickly the spots in his vision grew bigger, he struggled as best as he could before he started feeling weak and sluggish. Then everything went black. 

Castiel coughed as he started to gain consciousness. His head was swimming and his lungs burned. He felt something nudging at his bruised ribs, and he opened his eyes to Paul pushing at him with the toe of his boot.

“Wakey, wakey, little Johnny. Come on, fucker, get up.” 

Castiel groaned as he started pulling himself up into a sitting position, and he quickly realized that for the first time since he got to the vamp’s nest, his hands were not bound. He looked up at Paul and saw that he was twirling the cuffs on his finger. His other hand was holding a rag. 

“Alright, Johnny, its bathtime,” he motioned with the rag at a standing shower, where there was a bucket inside filled with water and a piece of old yellowed soap in a big, old plastic cup from some amusement park on the tile floor, “take off your clothes.” 

He stared up at Paul from his position on the floor for a minute, trying to gauge his mood. This was very difficult for Castiel, since he could no longer use his grace to measure the levels of neurotransmitters in Paul’s vessel, or listen in to his thought’s wavelengths, so Castiel had to rely on body language and facial expressions alone to gauge Paul’s mood. Sometimes, he sees Paul smiling when he is punishing Castiel, which doesn’t make sense to him, since people usually only smile when they are happy. Paul only punishes Castiel when he makes Paul angry. 

Castiel slowly pulled his socks off, which were now drenched in water from his splashing in the bathtub. Every action is laced with pain, since moving his arms or fingers causes the wounds in his back and wrists to shift painfully. He groaned when his left sock got stuck on his heel, and he was forced to wrench his arm painfully to pull it off. 

He slowly reached up to pull his shirt off. It, too, was soaking wet and clung to his shredded skin. Castiel couldn’t hold back a pained whimper. The sound of it echoed in the quiet of the small bathroom. Eventually, he found a way to get the wretched piece of cloth off his back and on the floor in front of him. 

He slowly pulled himself off the tiles and took a minute to rest against the wall of the bathroom. He could feel Paul’s eyes, and a couple seconds into his impromptu break, he heard Paul tap an impatient beat on the ground with his boot. 

Castiel pushed his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers, and, as a second thought, turned away from Paul. He recalled that humans offer privacy towards each other when they are undressing. At least, he knows Dean always turns away from Sam when he changes, but then Paul’s hand reaches out and grabs his elbow, forcing him to turn back around and face him. Castiel furrowed his eyebrows at Paul, whose eyes were traveling all over Castiel’s body with a clouded focus. Castiel looked away and pushed down his boxers, letting them pool around his ankles, and then slowly stepped out of them, every move causing the welts on the back of his legs to burn and throb. 

Castiel then stepped into the standing shower and looks around for a minute at what Paul had provided for him. He looked up at Paul, who was staring at him with the shadow of a smile playing on his lips. 

“Alright, Johnny, fill that cup with water.” Paul said as he motioned to the old, yellowed cup on the bathroom tiles, “Okay, now pour it on yourself.” 

Castiel starts pouring the cup over his body. The lukewarm water sent shivers down his spine and caused his welts and cuts to sting. 

“Yeah, just like that. Turn around. Alright, now do it again. Pour the water down your back.” 

The water ran down his back, hitting all the cuts and causing Castiel to arch his back, hissing in pain. He felt the water run down his hips and legs in rivulets, soothing the burning welts with its cool temperature. Unfortunately, the pain was overwhelming, making the relief short lived. He dropped the cup and leaned his forehead against the cool tile. Paul crossed his arms. 

“You’ll get used to it. Come on, I don’t have time for this. Let’s go, fill it up again. Pour it on your head.”

Castiel sighed as he gingerly lowered himself down to his knees. He picked up the cup, and filled it with water once again. Before he could pour it over his head, Paul caught his wrist.

“Stand up while you do it.” 

Resigned, Castiel stood up slowly and tried to focus on not collapsing or dropping the cup again. He poured the water over his head, and then Paul told him to pour the water a couple more times. The pain became more and more bearable. After a couple more minutes of pouring water, Paul spoke up again.

“Good...Good, now take this,” he hands Castiel the rag. 

Castiel holds it and stares at Paul in confusion, who immediately starts giving Castiel more instructions.

“I don’t have a sponge in here, so you’ll have to make do with that. Now, rub the soap on the rag. Do you really not know how to fuckin’ clean yourself? Come on, rub the soap on the rag, and then rub the rag on your self. Wash all that dirt off.” 

As Castiel started doing just that, he noticed Paul’s hand trail down to his crotch. Castiel’s stomach clenched when Paul proceeded to give himself a squeeze and stroke up and down a little. 

“Mmmmm, alright wash your legs now.” 

Castiel moved from washing his arm to his leg, and as he bent over to start washing his leg, he saw out of the corner of his eye Paul moving something. Castiel washed his left leg first, starting at his ankle and moving upwards. His hands moved awkwardly as they scrubbed the dirt and blood away, not used to moving that way against his own body. When he started washing his thighs, he heard Paul moan and when he looked up he saw a large prominent bulge in Paul’s pants. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as he recognized Paul’s sexual arousal. He cocked his head in confusion and met Paul’s eyes, which stared back at him hungrily. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

Castiel considered everything he knew about male anatomy; the human male anatomy becomes aroused in certain conditions, which all involve stimulation. Either the phallus, or another part of the male sexual organs, are stimulated, or the human male experiences another form of stimulation, which causes him to react due to conditioning. Like when a man smells a perfume that reminds him of a time he had sex, or hearing the moan of someone in the throes of sexual pleasure. However, there is a third and final way a human male can be stimulated to erection, and that is through the sense of vision. Seeing a possible sexual partner in a compromising position or participating in certain conditioned activities can result in complete sexual arousal if, and only if said male finds said potential sexual partner attractive or appealing. Does that mean that Paul finds Castiel sexually arousing? Castiel had chalked up Paul’s previous erection and ejeculation to Paul forcing Castiel to physically stimulate Paul’s phallus with his hand. Castiel had never thought of himself as sexually appealing in any way before. Especially since he had originally thought that sexual appeal and beauty are not only derived from people’s outer physical appearance, but also their behaviors and mannerisms. 

As Castiel continued to wash his body, he felt more and more self conscious of his nudity. After thoroughly washing his legs and arms, he started rubbing the soap bar in his hair, and the same apprehensive feeling from before settled in his stomach. Soap suds started falling into his eyes, which he did not realize could burn so much! 

“Ouch!” 

Castiel rubbed at his eyes with soap covered hands, making it even worse for himself than before. 

“Don’t rub with your hands- what’s wrong with you?” Paul started yelling at Castiel, “Ain’t you never wash yourself before? Use the water- wash your face. Don’t be stupid.” 

Castiel did just that, and he let the water fall over his head like a waterfall. Soon, the sharp pains in his eyes went away. When he leaned down to fill the cup with more water, he noticed how dirty the water coming off of him was. He stopped mid way to the bucket to watch the dirt and blood as it swirled down the drain, his face painted in an expression of awe and amazement. He didn’t realize it would be so satisfying to manually scrub dirt off of himself. He looked up to see Paul staring at him with a strange expression on his face, 

“Seriously man, are you an alien or something? You act like you’ve never taken a shower before, or even been anywhere near water. Couldn’t hold your breath for even a second when I dunked ya’.” 

The look on Paul’s face made Castiel increasingly uncomfortable, as he realized that Paul might start coming to conclusions on his own if Castiel continued to behave strangely. The strange look dissipated from Paul’s face and hungry eyes took its place when Castiel went back to washing himself, taking great care as to not touch any of the cuts on his back, or press any of the bruises on his chest. As he rubbed the soap on his stomach, Paul unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection. Castiel was taken by surprise, and his hand stopped moving on its way down his stomach.

“Um...uh-” 

“Keep scrubbin’ yourself. Quit stoppin’ in the middle. You stop again, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t, ya nimrod.” 

Paul started stroking himself. Castiel quickly looked away and started scrubbing his body at a faster rate, quickly washing over his privates, trying to go as fast as possible. He poured water over his body again, and when he did, Paul reached out, grabbed his shoulder, and turned Castiel around so that he was facing away from Paul. 

“Damn! You have one fine ass. So round…” as Paul’s voice began to trail off, his hand wandered down and touched Castiel’s butt, while his other hand continued to stroke his penis. 

Castiel yelped when Paul’s fingers came in contact with his lower back, and he twisted around, jumping away and walking deeper into the standing shower. He backed away until his shredded back touched the cold tiles, causing him to pull away from them and shiver. Paul followed him into the standing shower, and Castiel tried to back away more.

“Wait! I don’t want-” 

Paul grabbed Castiel’s hair and roughly started trying to push him down on his knees. Castiel screwed his eyes shut in pain and fear. He pushed at Paul's hand trying to twist free, still standing, he got Paul's hand out of his hair, but as he opened his eyes and looked around in a panic for any escape, he found himself cornered in the standing shower. He tried to go around Paul, but he jumped in his way. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

He crowded Castiel into the corner by stepping into his space. His engorged penis rubbed against Castiel's hip. Castiel let out a whimper and tried pushing against him eyes, looking around wildly for anything to save him. When Paul ground against him even harder, he smeared hot, pre-ejaculate all over Castiel's hip and stomach. The smell of sex and semen filled the air. 

Castiel gasped and tried to push further back into the tiles, "No, this- I don't want-" he pushed with weakened arms at Paul's shoulder and arms, trying to get past him, "Please! Please stop! Help!" 

His voice was small in the quiet and empty house. It echoed around the tiles, competing with Paul's feral groans. He continued to plead and beg for help, and his voice quieted and quieted until it became a whisper. Castiel felt a lump form in his throat as his eyes prickled with tears. Paul pushed Castiel down to his knees, fingers tangled in Castiel's wild, wet hair. Paul grabbed Castiel's hand and folded it around his erection. 

His hand started stroking up and down Paul's penis, still very awkwardly, but less so than before. He let his eyes quickly glance up at Paul, who groaned loudly. 

“Fuck- you’re hot. You’re so fuckin’ hot. Close your hand tighter- like this.” 

He squeezed Castiel hand tightly around his penis and pushed Castiel to stroke faster. Castiel did as he said. Paul thrust forwards with his hip, meeting Castiel’s strokes. Soon, his thrusts became faster, more erratic. 

“Fuck! I’m gonna come. Stick out your tongue. Come on- stick it out like before.” He moaned loudly, as his hand tightened in Castiel’s hair. Castiel didn’t want to, but he stuck out his tongue anyway, fearful of the consequences should he disobey during Paul’s climax. Paul growled at him, “Fuuuck, I’m so close- stroke faster. FASTER.” 

Castiel tried his best to stroke faster without losing his grip on Paul’s slick penis, hand moving even more awkwardly than before. His arm was beginning to ache. 

“Oh FUCK! OH! Ughhhhh!” 

He moaned loudly as his penis spurted semen all over Castiel’s face, only half of it actually making it past his lips. Castiel opened his eyes which he had closed tightly when Paul started coming. He wanted to spit so badly, but knew that it would make Paul angry. He heard someone sob, gag and gasp loudly, and belatedly realized it was himself. He hadn’t realized that he had been crying that entire time. Tears ran down his face, mixing with the seminal fluids on his cheeks and lips; a string of semen was on his eyelid and eyelashes, obscuring the vision in his left eye. Paul stepped back, pulled his pants up, and walked out of the standing shower. Castiel’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his sullied face in his hands as Paul moved around the bathroom picking things up. 

“Finish showering then get out. There’s clothes for you in front of the door.” With that, Paul walked out of the bathroom, leaving Castiel sobbing, broken, and alone. 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

Junior shoved the screwdriver deeper into the wood in front of him, scratching out a mean pattern in the old, mildewed deck. The farm house’s deck overlooked an icy swamp filled with all kinds of wildlife. The deck had never been maintenanced and was so old it was a hazard, but it was the only outdoor part of the farmhouse that sat in the shadows and out of the sunlight. He heard the door open behind him with a loud, obnoxious squeak. 

“Junior.”

Junior turned around to see Paul standing over him, holding a disk in his hand. Junior started getting up, 

“What do you want?” he asked, answering Paul with as little of interest as possible in his voice. 

Paul holds up the CD and says, “Come with me.” 

Junior follows Paul off of the deck and into the kitchen of the farmhouse. Paul puts the disk into his laptop, which he had left on the kitchen table. Junior watches the video of Castiel giving Paul a handjob, then receiving a facial in Paul’s bathroom. Castiel looks visibly upset for the majority of the video. The video also looks to be recorded from an angle so that Castiel couldn’t see it. Anger bubbled hot inside of him. Paul snapped the laptop shut and turned to Junior with a smug expression on his face. 

“He’s mine. You need to stay away from what’s mine, you understand? He’s a total amateur, and I’ll bet he’s never had sex before in his life. He’s almost ready for me to fuck his tight little ass. So, you just stay away, Jay.” 

Paul then turned, carrying his laptop, and walked away. Junior raised his hand over his head and stabbed his hunting knife right into the kitchen table. He left it standing in its spot on the table as he went back out on the deck. 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

The walls of his cell were vibrating, shaking...bleeding. His throat clicked as he swallowed, parched from having gone two and a half days without water. Now the walls are throbbing. The blood turning black as it oozed down and began puddling on the floor. A loud thumping started, and the walls started pulsing to it. As the thumping got louder, the pulsating grew stronger. Castiel closed his eyes against the sound, as it got louder and louder. His head ached, pounding to the rhythm of the thumping. Suddenly, the door to his cell swung open, the squeaking of the rusty hinges screaming in his ears. The steps got closer and closer, and Castiel already knew whose steps they were. His heart started pounding loudly, matching the wall’s thumping. 

He felt the chains that were holding his wrists together shift and move as someone started replacing the chain with handcuffs. The gashes on his wrists caused him to cry out in pain as his arms and hands were moved. He felt a hand on his chest, trailing down deliberately slow; when it reached his hip, Castiel struggled to muster the energy to open his eyes to meet Paul’s hungry ones. 

Without warning, Paul attacked his neck, biting down violently, and Castiel whimpered when Paul grabbed his hair and jerked his head roughly to the side.When Paul was finally done feeding, the world was spinning at an alarming rate. He felt like he was floating and drowning all at once. 

“Ughhhh, where’re we gonna...where’re we goin’...mast-master?” Castiel slurred as Paul pulled him to his feet. 

The sack came back down on his face, and soon they were both standing in the barn. There was an old dining room table in the middle of the barn, it was elevated one side with blocks under two of its legs. Paul pushed Castiel to lie on his back on the table, his head closer to the shorter side of the table, with his feet more elevated than his head. Paul cuffed each of Castiel’s hands to the table legs. He did the same for his feet.

“Alright, Johnny. You know how it goes.” 

So far, Paul’s torture and repeated attempts to make Castiel break have not been fruitful. Castiel felt a bubble of fear and anger rise up inside him. He replied to Paul curtly, 

“Your John- your Johnny has nothing to say.”

Paul’s face twisted in anger, and Castiel closed his eyes at the sight. 

“You know, the more you lie, the more you’re gonna suffer.” 

Paul put a wet rag on Castiel’s face, causing Castiel to twist and turn away from it. Paul grabbed Castiel’s neck and jaw hard, making it impossible for Castiel to turn his head, and draped the cloth over his face until he was satisfied with the fit. Castiel was not prepared for what happened next. All of a sudden, water was gushing into his mouth and nose. He instantly started choking and coughing. The water kept coming, and it felt like he was drowning. His throat and nose burned, and his lungs burned too, as he swallowed and inhaled water. Eventually, the water stopped, and Paul pulled the rag off his face. 

“Who are you working for, you piece of shit?” 

“I’m not working for anyone! Please!” Castiel gasped and coughed loudly, “Please, no more water! I am not working for anyone! Believe me!” 

Castiel tried to maneuver himself out of Paul’s grasp. Paul’s fingers were painfully tight around his neck, and made Castiel feel trapped and a little choked off. 

“When are you gonna break, Johnny? When?” 

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut as Paul started putting the rag on his face again. Paul’s fingers were holding Castiel’s throat tightly, irritating the bites on Castiel’s neck. Water came pouring into his mouth and nose again, and he felt the panic set into his body as he struggled against his binds. 

Water. All he could feel, and see was the burn and ice of water entering his oral and nasal cavities. His vision was all water. Water poured down his cheeks and across his temple into his ears. All he could hear was the gush of water. So much water. 

Paul pulled the rag off his face and back on seven more times before Castiel finally passed out. He woke up alone in his cell, the memory of water overwhelming all of his senses. He felt cold. Alone. Most of all, he felt that he was still drowning.

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

Castiel gritted his teeth and groaned loudly into his shoulder. He knew better than to scream now. Paul doesn’t like when Johnny screams. He wants Johnny to be quiet for him, to be a good boy for him. Castiel wanted to be good. 

He watched fearfully as Paul turned away, reaching for another straight pin. The dining room table was no longer elevated, but standing properly in the barn. Castiel was sitting on a rusty metal chair in front of it. Paul made make-shift metal bands on the table to hold down Castiel’s hands by his wrist. The bands were inserted right in front of where Castiel was sitting, his elbows just barely hanging off the table, his fingers spread out for Paul.

Castiel’s hands were not just bound by the metal bands on his wrists, but were also held down with screws and long nails, cruelly hammered into the back of his hands into the table. Right now, Paul was shoving straight pins and toothpicks under Castiel’s fingernails. The pain was almost too much to bear, and every now and then, Castiel's vision would go blurry and dark around the edges. 

To add to that, Paul no longer gives up and ‘reschedules’ their ‘appointment' when Castiel passes out more than a certain number of times, like he used to. Now, it doesn't matter if he slaps or tazes Castiel awake for the twenty-third time, he will keep going until there is no more time left in the day. 

Paul starts pushing another pin under the nail on Castiel's ring finger. Castiel grinds his teeth together and digs his feet into the hard dirt of the barn floor. Tears were running steadily down his face and mixing with the sweat already there.

“You know, I am really enjoying this. I am enjoying every minute, Johnny. So, I really don’t care if you talk anymore.”

The silence in the cabin is softly interrupted by the distant hums and growls of the generator parked on the side of the barn. The only other sounds Castiel could hear was the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, followed by the rush of blood to his head. It was a symphony of shrill pain and screeching agony, deafening, and beyond anything Castiel had ever heard before. 

“The thing is, though, I would be willing to give up on hurting you once you just give me what I want.”

Castiel’s glazed eyes flicker up to meet Paul’s. The truth is, he does not really know what is keeping him from opening up to Paul anymore. Dean and Sam have definitely left him behind, and left the town completely. If that’s the case, then the vamps can’t really do anything about it. If they were to go after the Winchesters, what would that do? They would just get killed, and that’s the end of that. But what if the vamps do go after them, and end up surprising them? Or overpowering them? No, that won’t happen, because I won't let it. 

Castiel swallowed and let his eyes fall back down to stare at the bloodstained table. He noticed that Paul’s hands had stopped in their search for another pin, and he looked up to catch Paul watching his mouth intently. It was only then that he realized he had been biting his bottom lip in an effort to stifle his pained noises. His stomach clenched in fear, bile climbing his throat, as he ducked his head in an effort to hide his face from Paul. 

Blood-slick fingers wrapped themselves around Castiel’s jaw, forcing him to lift his head and meet Paul’s cold eyes. His heart skipped a beat and his breath stuttered, fear turning his blood to ice. Please, father, please. Please don’t let him...please.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel watched Paul’s hand move underneath the table and start rubbing his groin. The knot in his stomach grew tighter. Paul stood up from his chair and his hand pulled at his belt buckle. 

“Please don’t. Master, please don’t. Please-”

“Don’t what, Johnny?” Paul replied, as he walked around the table. Castiel struggled to follow his movements, his hands still nailed painfully to the dining table. 

“I don’t want...Please, I don’t want it. I don’t want to.”

Paul was now standing directly in front of Castiel, his crotch level with Castiel’s chin. 

“What don’t you want?”

“I don’t want to...I don’t want..like what you- like what happened in the bathroom before and-and in the basement.”

“Is that so?” Paul rubbed his thumb along Castiel’s jaw, the bulge in his pants growing as he rubbed at it with his other hand.

“Yes. Yes, Master.”

“Hmmm.” For a second it seemed like Paul was actually considering the request. Then without warning, he struck Castiel. The blow would have knocked Castiel from the chair, has his hands not been nailed down. The fire lanced through his hands again. 

“Looks like you forgot who you belong to. Forgot who you serve…” 

Paul kept talking, but after that...Forgot who you serve...Castiel couldn’t hear anymore, his ears were ringing, and his head was spinning. The distant, inaudible sound of Paul’s voice continued droning on in the background. At first, its tone lacked any inflection or character, just a voice, but then,it became more and more insistent, calling, asking. Paul wants something from Castiel, but his voice was too far away to understand or hear it. 

Without warning, Castiel felt Paul tug on his shirt, pulling him roughly out of his seat, his hands still nailed to the dining room table. As Castiel started coming back to his senses, Paul started pushing at his back, bending him over at the waist. His breath started coming in rapid, panicked puffs. The sound of Paul’s belt buckle as he undid it rang in Castiel’s ears, and completely brought him back to the present. 

“What are you…? Master, what are you doing?”

Paul’s hard member poked its hot head at the swell of Castiel’s rear, making his body turn rigid with fear. 

Paul then starts pulling at the waistband of Castiel’s pants. 

“NO! What are you doing? DON’T! GET OFF!” Castiel surprised himself with his own audacity. A strange feeling spread through him, his reaction...it made him feel...made him feel...good? It was a positive sensation, even if his voice was almost a whisper bouncing off the walls of the old barn, cracking on the word ‘doing’. He still...did something. Fear instantly came in and washed that happiness out, as he wondered what Paul might do. But I said ‘no’. I said ‘no’, after all that. He hasn’t broken me. Not yet. 

As Paul started pushing down his underwear too, Castiel started trying to buck him off, ignoring the horrible pain in his hands as he leaned over them. 

“Shut up. Stop it! Stop moving, fuckin’ idiot. I’ll kill you. I swear, I’ll skin you if you don’t stop movin’, you little shit. Who am I kidding? I’m gonna skin you either way, but if you hold still, I will make sure to skin something a little less sensitive.” 

As Paul said this last part, his hand pushed into the front of Castiel’s pants and grabbed his privates, holding them in a vice grip; Castiel stilled instantly. It hurt! It hurt in a way Castiel has never felt before. It was so different from the pain in his hands, or on his back. So much worse than anything else, even though all Paul was really doing was holding his genitals tightly. The pain came with a strong intoxicating fear and worry Castiel has never really felt before. 

It was different from when that other vampire...what was her name? Lynnette? Lily?...had grabbed him, he didn’t feel the fear he felt now; back then he had just felt revolted. 

Paul started tugging at the waistband of his boxers pulling them down to join his jeans that were wrapped around his thighs. 

“What are you going to- What are you going to do to me?”

“Shhh...shh..shut up, shut up, shut up, Johnny…shut up...”

The only thing keeping Castiel from ripping his hands through the nails and shoving Paul off of him was Paul’s hand on his genitals, holding him in place with fear and pain.

The cold air on Castiel’s exposed skin made him shiver. Paul pushed the hot, slick head of his cock against Castiel’s exposed rear, pushing against what Castiel recognized as his vessel’s anal sphincter. Castiel straightened out, his body jumping at the threat of intrusion, and tensing with horror at what was coming. 

“Wait! What-What are you doing?”

Pushing Castiel back down with a hand at the small of his back, Paul replied, “If you shut up and sit still, I won’t hurt you. Be a good boy, Johnny, and this won't be so bad.”

Castiel allowed Paul to push him back down, this time further than before, with his forehead coming to rest on the table's surface. The embarrassment he would have felt in this situation is masked by the pain that explodes from his hands. 

Paul had taken away his hand from Castiel’s crotch when he pushed him down, and was now using it to massage Castiel’s buttocks. His fingers occasionally ‘slipping’ and rubbing against Castiel’s entrance. At one point, Paul penetrated him with the tip of a very dry finger, which made Castiel shoot up with a yelp, only to be shoved back down. 

“Fuck...so tight...so fucking tight. Pink little hole, you’ve never been touched before have you? No one’s ever gotten to your tight little ass- jesus…” Paul's voice trailed off, ending in a long, feral groan. 

Paul pushed Castiel’s cheeks tightly together, and started thrusting between them, at first slowly, and then increasingly faster, and rougher.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you. Pound your ass, show you how to ride me like the pretty little whore you are. Fuck. I want to fuck you so bad right now. I’d just fuck you, and you’d take it, wouldn’t you? You’d just take it like the cockslut you are. Tell me. Tell me how you’d take it!”

Castiel hadn’t realized he was crying-shaking with each breath-more tears running down his face, until he tried to reply. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. Paul replied to his silence with a smack to his right asscheek hard enough to throw Castiel at the table, his hands ripping with the movement, and his ass stinging horribly. It felt like his ass was on fire, and bruised. He could almost feel the actual shape of Paul’s hand on his ass. 

“...I...I would just take it…? Master.”

“Say it again. Louder this time, tell me how you’d take it. How you’d take it. Come on!”

Castiel clears his throat and replies, “I would take it...like a...like a-a,” castiel couldn’t remember the word that Paul had used. 

“Like what? Like what, Johnny?”

“I-I forgot...I forgot the word.”

Paul was silent for a second, stilling in his actions. Castiel could feel him staring at him, this time not at his ass, but at the back of his head. The only sound in the barn now Castiel’s heavy breathing, joined only with the soft humming of the generator, and the soft buzz of the barn’s lights, which Castiel just noticed for the first time. 

After a whole minute and a half, Paul finally replied, “You forgot the word ‘cockslut’. You mean you don’t know the word?” 

Castiel twisted around as much as he could, trying to see Paul’s face. He was staring at Castiel with a strange smile on his face.

“You’re a real virgin, huh? You’ve never even slept with a woman before? Or have you ever even…” his hand slowly traveled down to Castiel’s crotch. This time, mockingly gentle. 

He started touching Castiel’s penis in a movement very similar to what he made Castiel do to him before. At first, Castiel couldn’t really feel anything, but then he started to feel. 

“Ah! Ugh-” Castiel pushed on his toes to get away from Paul’s hand, but the hand followed him. He didn’t trust himself to speak anymore. 

The horribly pleasurable sensation lasted for a minute before it twisted and turned cold. Castiel suddenly started gagging. and realized he was going to retch if Paul didn’t stop. He couldn’t understand what was happening, and all the sensations and feelings twisted around inside him so that he couldn’t distinguish the feelings. 

Finally, Paul pulled his hand away. “Fuck I’m gonna have fun with you. Make you the perfect little fucktoy for me. Remember that word Johnny, remember, I’m gonna make you an obedient, sensitive little fucktoy. Say it. Say you’re gonna be my fucktoy.”

“I will be your- your fucktoy...master.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Paul went back to thrusting against Castiel. 

“Are you a cockslut, Johnny? Tell me you’re a cockslut.”

“I’m a cock-slut.” The word tumbled awkwardly out Castiel’s mouth when he tried to say it, and scrambled his brain even worse when he tried to understand it. 

“Yeah. Fuck yeah you are! Fuck…”

Paul’s thrusts continued, harder and harder, the sound of skin slapping skin loud and vulgar in the barn. Castiel felt even more disgusted, bile climbing up his throat, and once again, he found himself gagging. 

After what felt like hours, Paul’s thrusts became almost random, all rhythm gone. A dozen or so thrusts later, he was groaning loudly and painting Castiel’s backside with his hot semen. He pulled Castiel’s underwear and pants up over the mess and shoved Castiel back into his seat. 

“Now let’s finish what we were doing.”

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After Paul did the most he could to Castiel’s hands, he moved down to his feet. Once he finished his feet, he started something new. He started cutting at his bicep’s skin, getting ready to skin him alive. Just as Paul made another shallow laceration, the barn’s doors open, and two people walk in.   
With the barn doors behind him, Castiel could not see who they were, he could just hear that they were in the middle of an argument. 

“...no they are always watching, we have to keep-” A deep voice said, Castiel couldn’t recognize it, although he could have sworn he had heard it before.

Paul was standing next Castiel, who was still sitting on the broken dining room chair when they walked in, and stared up at them with shock when they walked in. 

“Paul! What are you doing?” The second vamp all but shouted. Castiel could recognize this one. It was that pretty Vamp from before...Mina. 

Paul’s voice replied, But Castiel could hardly recognize it...there was fear in it, and it was full of respect. “I-uh-I was grilling him for answers…”

“And who told you to do that?” Mina’s voice was coming closer. 

“Uhm…”

Mina was standing right next to Castiel now. “Oh, you poor thing! Paul, what’s wrong with you?” She put her hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and all of a sudden he felt so relaxed, all the fear and pain leaving him. Oh, there is nothing. Nothing to be worried about...I’m alright.

“Paul, take him back to his cell. Don’t let anyone visit his cell tonight. Understand?!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Good.” 

After that, Castiel couldn’t hear anymore. He was awake, and unconscious at the same time. 

A couple minutes or hours later(he has completely lost his sense of time), he found himself in his cell, pulling out the pins out of his hands and feet. The squeal of his cell door when it opens has become terrifying, automatically causing his body to go into panic, as it does now. His head shoots up, his breaths short and shallow, his body shaking and unresponsive to his commands of calm down, slow down, shut down, to see Paul walking into the room with determination. 

When he reaches Castiel he grabs him by the chin and pulls his face roughly to look up at him.

“Just because the higher ups said I can’t fuck with you anymore, doesn’t mean I won’t. Now, you call me ‘sir’, not Master. I am not about to get my head ripped off because of you. You still need to show me respect you fuckin’ piece of shit. Huh?”

“Yes, sir.” Castiel chokes out. 

Paul shoves him back into the cot, hard. 

“I’m comin’ back for you later, you hear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Paul turns and slams the door to the cell. Now Castiel is alone with his thoughts, and he realizes that the nightmare isn’t over. Paul isn’t going to leave him alone. The cold terror that spreads over him makes him want to do what he does best. So, he clasps his hands together, bows his head, and prays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell us what you think of this chapter! Thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol why am I the messiest procrastinator in the world? Anyway, here is the LAST chapter of Blood Bag(new name too! Is it too late in the game to change the name of the whole story?), but keep a lookout for part two, Devil's Lake!
> 
> Warning for attempted rape in this chapter. Be careful!
> 
> Chapter by SaraPBateman, beta'd by Ohcassie
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

*Two Weeks Later*  
“Yes, sir.” Castiel answered when Paul shoved the broom into his hand, and told him to sweep the musty living room. 

Paul now regularly works Castiel into exhaustion everyday, doing odd jobs and chores around the farmhouse, now with the permission of the leading vamps. Unfortunately, most of the time, Castiel doesn’t really know how to do the task, and ends up with a bigger mess than before. Initially, this angered Paul, and ended with him beating Castiel and yelling at him, but after a while, it became a chance for him to hang around and watch Castiel as he worked; hungry eyes following his movements. The jobs would usually be an excuse to get Cas alone in a hidden place to feel him up, rub against him, and say dirty, horrible things to him. Otherwise, he would just sit back and make fun of Castiel or ridicule him for his lack of ability and knowhow. 

Castiel’s health has definitely taken a turn for the worse. While the wounds in his hands and feet started healing a little, the wounds on his back and the bite wounds on the rest of his body(the vampires ran out of room to bite on his neck and shoulders, and have since taken a lot of enjoyment out of sucking from the artery at Castiel’s inner thigh) were severely infected. His entire body continues to suffer from the effects of a never-ending high fever. Castiel’s knowledge of human anatomy tells him that he should have serious brain damage by now, and organ failure, along with blindness, and deafness, since the human body cannot be at a high temperature for so long. He hopes that this means that he still has some angel in him. However, deep in his heart, he knows this is probably just some lasting effects of having had an angel in his vessel. 

Castiel awkwardly maneuvers the broom to sweep under the old, broken coffee table.

I wonder how it broke. 

“How strange. So this is what human curiosity feels like.” Castiel murmurs to himself as he tries to pick a misplaced sock up with his toe to avoid bending over. He fails three times before Paul roars at him to ‘just pick it up already!’ and Castiel instantly throws himself down to pick it up with a ‘yes, sir’. 

Becoming human has made his body so much harder to control. Simple movements, which before were easy to manage, are now a clumsy flailing struggle. As an angel, Castiel controlled his vessel as a man inside a giant robot would control it. He would send commands to the nerves controlling his body to create movement. He never really settled into his body enough to create the movements himself. His grace always stayed near the mouth of his vessel, at the base of his throat, never venturing any lower to where it is supposed to be, his vessel’s chest. Most angels keep it near the base of the throat, or at the throat as much as possible. But over time, an angel’s grace tends to slowly settle down right at the center; from one clavicle to the other, and if the human soul had left the vessel, then the grace would reside down even lower to where it should be, the soul’s home, or the human heart. At least that’s what he heard from other angels. He never really noticed such things, or got to witness them, since he spent most of his existence watching from a distance. Now he is his vessel. 

“It’s time for him to go back to his cell. Mina said.”

Castiel was startled to hear Junior’s voice. He hadn’t notice him walk in. Over the past two weeks, Junior has been getting closer and closer to Castiel. First, by coming in during Castiel's odd jobs to give him a quick glance(since paul never allowed him to stay around Castiel for more than a couple seconds), then Junior would try his best to give Castiel small treats like an extra water bottle, granola bar, or some gauze behind Paul’s back. 

As Junior walked Castiel back to the closet in the basement, he put his arm around Castiel’s shoulders, but then slowly dropped it down to his waist. Castiel new it was supposed to be a friendly gesture, however, for some reason, he couldn’t calm the nervous cramp in his stomach and the nerve-fueled thundering beat in his chest.

When they finally got to the cell, Castiel’s legs could barely hold him up anymore. He collapsed into his cot hard enough that he was sure it had broken. It occurred to him that his vessel had lost enough weight that he wasn’t heavy enough to deal any real damage to it. 

“Here’s lunch.” Junior said, holding out a granola bar, “There’s some water, too.”

As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly in the small room, making Junior smile.

“Hey, you know what, I’ll bring you some bear-meat soup later, huh? I know this ain’t much right now, and you’ve had nothing but these bars since you got here, but that’s all I can bring you right now without being caught. Alright?”

“Yes. Thank you, Junior.” 

“Anytime, buddy. See ya later, alligator.” Junior replied, but Castiel was already asleep and didn’t reply.

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

Sam jogged the rest of the way towards the soul scroll, nerves making him impatient to find out the number of vamps. Dean, on the other hand, continued walking slowly behind, eyes focused on his new phone, which had better reception than his old one.

“Dean! What time is it?” Sam’s voice came muffled through the dense forest.

Dean rolled his eyes, and ran to catch up to Sam.

“Dude, you need to stop yelling. We could be heard, and then everything we’ve done will go to waste.”

“Dean, there is no way they could have heard us seven miles from their stupid cabin. Supernatural hearing or not.”

“You don’t know that! What if they’re walking around the property, you know, doing stuff?”

Sam rolled his eyes, scoffing, “What are vamps going to be doing out this early in the morning?”

“It’s 4:50, Sam, that means that some, if not most of them, are not even asleep yet. The sun is barely out. Jeez, it goddamn early, Sam. Why’d we have to come so fuckin’ early?”

“Because, I can combine my morning run and this stupid trip.” Much to Dean’s annoyance, Sam promptly ran ahead before he could reply.  
A couple minutes later, Dean heard Sam yelling his name, and out of fear for his brother’s safety, Dean sprinted to catch up. 

“Shit! DEAN! Dean, you need to come look at this!” Sam stood gaping at the soul scroll.

“I am looking! Wha-? Oh.” 

The number of vamps that had come to the farm house had gone up to ninety-eight the last time they checked it, but now it had gone down to seventy-two. They planned on waiting until the most amount of vamps had come up to the nest, but now the number had gone down.

“We have to do it this afternoon.” Dean clenched his jaw with a grim expression.

They planned a battle for an afternoon, since the vamps would be up at night, and energized enough for a battle. In the morning or midday, it would be far too early for them to be able to run off of the property without being noticed by the local authorities, and some of the vamps could still be awake hanging around in the farmhouse. 

“Are you sure? Maybe they are just out, like, hunting or whatever.”

“Sam, we can’t take that chance. We have to do it tonight before anymore of them leave.” 

“We’ll discuss it when we get back.”

Dean turned back the way they came, “Sure.”

Sam rolled his eyes, as he ripped the soul scroll out of the tree trunk. If they did decide to leave today, there would be no time for them to come back and hide any supernatural evidence they left behind. 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

Back at the house, they found Jen passed out in her chair. They decided to let her sleep, and start packing up the impala, since Sam discovered another hunt a couple miles north, and they really couldn’t waste any more time here. 

“What time is it?” Dean’s gruff voice carried from the trunk of the impala, as he pulled and tested the ‘dean-made’ oxygen/gas mask combo. 

Dean had created a mask that not only gives oxygen, but also simultaneously filters oxygen from the air around them, saving oxygen, allowing the light tank to last way longer than it would regularly. It was times like these that Sam truly realized that Dean could have been something, and something big at that, that he was not really the ‘smart winchester’ and dean wasn’t just the ‘brave winchester’. It was always clear after times like this that Dean really doesn’t give himself enough credit, and he is just as smart as Sam, if not smarter. 

Checking his phone, Sam replied, “11:50.”

“We’ll have to start setting up soon.” Dean announced, as he straightened out. 

“Do you have any extra syringes?”

“What, of dead man’s blood?”

“No, Dean, of heroin - yes of dead man’s blood! What else?”

“Well, when you wake me up at the asscrack of dawn-not even-the asscrack of night, don’t expect me to be at full function, dipshit.”

“I didn’t ask you to sleep at two yesterday, asshole. Now do you have any extra syringes or not?”

Glaring at Sam, Dean walked over and thrust the the two remaining syringes at Sam(plunger first of course), the others hidden safely in the jackets Dean had fixed with special bands running all along the sides to hold many, many syringes. The same way someone would wear a machine gun belt, that is separate from the actual makeshift machine gun belt of syringes, and shotgun bullets filled with hardened, coagulated dead man’s blood and rock salt. The belt was also made of fire resistant material, and sprayed down with fire-repelling fluid used by daredevils and stuntmen, how he’d gotten it in this small town was a mystery to Sam. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go get Jen, and then we can get this show on the road.”

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

About an hour later, Sam and Dean were standing in front of the small farmhouse. No signs of life on the property. Dark clouds cast shadows on the ground from above, making the place look grim and dark, even more so than it did before. 

“Alright, Jen said that the vamps had plans for coming together and...multiplying...breeding? Right? They wanted to farm humans for blood, that seems pretty complicated, so they probably have it all planned out and written down somewhere. Maybe that will tell us where the other twenty-six vamps have gone.”

Dean turned and watched Sam as he pulled on the rubber gloves they had brought to protect against the dead man’s blood getting into any cuts or any of the chemicals coming into contact with their skin. The rubber gloves were spray painted black to keep from being visible in the dark.

“So what are you suggesting?”

“I’m saying that while we put everything in, and then after we set everything off, we need to keep our eyes open for any papers of interest, laptops, CDs, USBs, anything that could have any information in it. If we can, we should bring it out to the car.”

“Dude, I thought you said that we should leave town soon, we have that other hunt-”

“Yeah, but it's not as demanding as this. These vamps are killing large numbers of people from nearby cities and states, and they have big plans for starting some shit, so I think we should do it just in case.”

“Fine, but I’m not going through all that mess.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I will.” Sam went silent for a beat, then said, “Hey, Dean?”

“Dude, I’m the only other person in this car, you don’t have to call my name to get my attention- just start talking.”

Sam huffed, and looked out the window in annoyance, “I was just going to say, this is going to be really dangerous, so…”

“What? Are you scared, Sammy?” Dean reached out and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder in mock sympathy. Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged it off.

“No, I’m just saying something could happen...we- I’m just saying, be careful, you know? Yeah?”

“Sam, we haven’t even set anything up yet, you baby.”

“Dean, we are about to face seventy vamps. That’s more than ten times the size of an average nest. Don’t be such an asshole. I’m just saying- you know what? Nevermind.” Sam abruptly opened the car door and got out, slamming it behind him with as much force as he could dare in such close proximity to the sleeping vamps. 

Dean got out and followed him to open the trunk. As they rummaged in the trunk, Dean bumped his shoulder into Sam’s. Sam smiled, knowing that was the most he was going to get out his brother. Right now, it was enough.

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

 

It’s 4:47 pm. Setting up everything had taken four hours. The sky looked just as dark as ever, gray and angry, as the wind surrounding them picked up speed. Jen was still blissfully passed out in the backseat, and Dean was really beginning to envy her. The Impala’s backseat was now full of boxes filled with CDs, files, two USBs, a camera, and a laptop, all confiscated from the same shack, a couple meters from the farmhouse itself. Sam encountered one vamp there and finished him off quickly and silently.

“You know, he wasn’t surprised to see me.”

“Who? The vamp?”

“Yeah. He was startled but not surprised. He recovered right away, and just..attacked.”

“What? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I sure hope the others won’t be so aware.”

“Son of a bitch.”

A long silence stretched out between them, both of them feeling the fresh sting of betrayal. It hurt, even if they had expected it. So they let the silence stretch out until the topic changed, and the next thing they knew, they were taking turns napping until the last thirty minutes before sunset, when it would be time to set everything off. 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

As the dark clouds up ahead shifted, the sun’s golden light washed through Baby’s windshield, right into Dean’s fuckin’ eyes. He moved to check his phone, but Sam beats him to it, saying:

“It’s 6:07 pm. We should get ready.”

They get out of Baby, and Dean heads to the back seat to get Jen, while Sam set up the detonators. Dean wakes up Jen, and right away, she hisses at the light, and tries her best to dive to the floor of the Impala’s backseat. 

Dean jerks her back up saying, “Alright, calm down, it's not like it's gonna burn you or anything, you big drama queen.” 

“Alright Jen, this is it. We’re gonna burn this place to the ground. Sam here’ll take you with him, and you are going to show him around. He asks for some information, you give it right away, understand? Otherwise it’s off with your pretty little head. You’re gonna show him where the vamps sleep, where the exits are, anything like that, alright?”

“Dean, I think I can explain it to her. The question is: what are you going to do?”

“Imma stick to plan, start from the front door and make my way through the house…‘exterminating’.” Dean smirked at that.

The clouds above shifted again, and the sun became covered once more. The cold november air twisted around them. Dean shivered as the only warmth around him dissipated. Was it really only November? Huh.

“O.K. Here we go. I’ll detonate on ‘one’, alright? Ten...nine...eight...” 

It was standard protocol, as taught by John Winchester, to count down all the way to one from ten when handling explosives, thus, giving time for last minute changes.

“...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one…”

They were far enough away that they didn’t have to worry about the blast getting to them, but they still took the cautionary measure of standing on the side of Baby, away from the blast. The sound was a muffled thump. They felt it more than they heard it. 

They walk towards the house. 

Dean jumps in through the back door, Oxygas mask on tight, as the house filled with smoke and vaporized rotten dead-man's blood. Right away, he encounters two confused and distraught vamps, and finishes them off easily. 

He walks down the hall and encounters five more, all confused and struggling to move about. Each of them drops dead easily with a swing of his blade. Alright, that's seven, only sixty-four more to go. Sam and Dean had decided to count each one they dropped to keep track of how many are left before they ditched the property. Their goal is for each of them to get around thirty nine, and then head to the Impala, their rendezvous point, and wait. Dean, of course, does not plan on waiting if Sam is not there. He will go right back and get him.

The room after that had ten vamps. Ten. That was more than a whole nest should have. Luckily, they were all extremely disoriented, and Dean dropped them all, fast and easy. He sees a door, which leads to the kitchen. He heads inside and sees one vamp and drops him. That’s eighteen, fifty-three more to go. 

He opens the door to what he assumes is the basement, which is, for some reason, separated from the cellar. He heads down the stairs and opens the first door to his left. It’s a small room with two women chained up inside. He recognizes them from the missing people’s posters all over town. They’ve been here a whole three years, and as sick as they looked, they at least looked mobile. He freed them and informed them the house is on fire, ‘you need to get out now’.

He headed down the hall and opened another door on his left. It lead to a closet. 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

*Thirty Minutes earlier*

“...Who you serve…”

“Forgot who you serve.”

“Serve.”

“Forgot who you serve…”

“Serve.”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold. Castiel is cold. So cold, surrounded by light, and so cold. Loud...loud...LOUD! It’s so LOUD! Too LOUD! It was so loud he couldn’t really hear what it was saying. Not it. He. TOO LOUD. TOO LOUD!!! The sound...is not human. The sound is words...the words are not English. Castiel tries to focus on them, tried to remember that tongue. Screaming. One part of the sound was recognizable... 

“Castiel”

More pain followed. More screaming followed...It was worse than anything he had ever felt in his time as a human...but it is familiar. It was from his time as an angel. Screaming. 

“Castiel.”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold. Castiel is so cold.

“Castiel”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold. The sound...Castiel recognizes its voice...he is singing to Castiel again.

“Forgotten who you serve”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry please-please-”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold. He. He is Zachariah. ‘But Zachariah is dead’. Pain. Screaming. 

“Castiel. Have you forgotten who you serve?”

“Zachariah.”

“Castiel. Have you forgotten who you serve?”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold. 

“Zachariah, I am sorry, brother. Please. Please! Take me back! Zachariah?”

“Castiel. Have you forgotten who you serve?”

“Please” sobbing. “Please...take me back.”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold.

“Buddy?”

“Please. Take me back.”

“Castiel. Have you forgotten who you serve?”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold.

“Castiel. Have you forgotten-”

“Blue eyes? Shit! Wake up, man!”

Light. Pain. Screaming. Cold. 

“Buddy!”

Castiel’s eyes shot open. Castiel heard screaming all around him, and quickly realized it was coming from him. He stopped screaming, but - oh god - he couldn’t stop shaking. Castiel was shaking. His whole body was shaking violently, and he couldn’t make it stop. He couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t stop, and he could not stop. Arms were enclosing him, holding him, holding down his violent tremors. But they were hurting, bruising him. He tried to stop fighting against them, to stop shaking against them, but his body just kept going. 

“Shhhh, it's ok. Don’t worry, you’ll be alright.”

After what seemed like forever, his body slowly stopped shaking. He was still spasming and twitching, but most of his more violent tremors were almost completely gone. 

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright. They aren’t supposed to last this long.”

“J-Junior?”

His voice was hoarse from the screaming, and his ears were ringing. Junior’s hands are on his face now, and he’s holding his cheek, stroking, his expression strange. He reached down and touched Castiel’s ear, and when he pulled it back, his fingers had blood on them. 

“You, uh, you had a seizure. I’ve seen them before...my cousin was epileptic. But, he ne’re screamed like you. Or cry. I mean sometimes he used to cry afterwards, but like, he never cried or like...or you know, sobbed while it was happening.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, and continued to stare up at Junior, feeling extremely grateful for him...grateful to have him. 

“It hurt.”

“You remember?”

“Yes, I remember shaking at the end.”

“That’s weird, my cousin never remembered what happened to him during a seizure. I would have to tell him. Yeah, and like I said, they aren’t supposed to last this long. I don’t know why yours did, and I really don’t know why your ears are bleeding.”

It was silent in the small cell for a couple seconds.

“Junior.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome…”

More silence. Junior helped Castiel into a sitting position, breaking the silence saying, “Hey, I-uh-I brought that soup I was talkin’ about earlier. ‘Sgot bear meat in it.”

 

Junior brought up the tray and put it on his lap, handing Castiel a bowl and taking his own. Castiel took the first sip of soup out of the spoon, it was bursting with...what he assumed humans meant by “flavor”. He could taste it, really taste it. It was absolutely...wonderful. Amazing, if a little...Castiel could taste a large, and slightly unpleasant amount of something he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. He tilted his head, brow furrowed, staring at red mixture in front of him.

“It might be a little salty. I accidently put an extra measure of salt in it.”

“It’s very good.”

“Aw, well thanks, it ain't much.”

Castiel took another few sips from the soup, really enjoying it. When he looked up, he noticed that Junior was staring at him with an expression Castiel could only translate as expectant. So he smiled best he could, and took another large spoonful of the soup, with his eyes never leaving Junior’s. That's when he noticed that Junior had not touched his soup. Smile slowly falling, he let his eyes flick from Junior’s face to his soup. He swallowed and put his spoon down, eyes dropping back to stare at his own soup, then cleared his throat. 

Castiel smiled weakly at Junior, “Junior, aren’t you going to eat your soup?”

All of a sudden, they heard an explosion that shook whole building. Castiel’s ears were ringing, and he had dropped the bowl of soup over the side of the cot. Another muffled explosion was heard, and Castiel started feeling real dizzy. He looked up to see Junior staring at the door, then turn back and stare at Castiel. 

Junior started moving towards him. He bends over and puts the bowl of soup on the floor next to Castiel’s cot.

Then he starts grabbing at Castiel.

“Junior? Junior, what are you doing?”

A wave of vertigo washed over Castiel, and he realized he couldn’t move, he couldn’t get up, couldn’t pull away, couldn’t push. He felt like he was falling and his stomach was in his throat. The next time he became aware of his surroundings, he was bent over the side of his cot, with his knees on the ground, and Junior on his back.

“I roofied your soup.”

“What?” Castiel slurred. It was the only response he could muster.

“Drugged your soup, I drugged it.”

Castiel felt Junior pulling down his pants. At the realization of what was to come, Castiel’s fight to speak and pull away took on a new life.

“Junior don’t! What are you…? Junior! Junior, you piece of shit!” the anger and strength in Castiel’s voice surprised even himself. “Don’t do this to me! Don’t you do this to me!”

Castiel’s voice cracked as he started crying, nothing hurt as much as this betrayal. His heart ached, as Junior unbuckled his own pants, and started rubbing against Castiel, who was bucking hard against him. Fighting with all the strength left in him. 

“Junior, you ass! Stop it. Stop!” when he realized Junior wasn’t stopping, he was now rubbing himself against Castiel, desperation took over his voice. “Junior please. Please, don’t do this. I-I trusted you.”

Junior tugged at the chain holding Castiel’s wrists, and pulled on it to keep Castiel from moving. It worked, the pain was too much to fight against. 

“Please, please don’t.”

Junior spat on him, he felt it slide down between his crack. The sound of the cell door opening was distant and did not distract either of them from the task at hand.

“Please don’t. No!” 

Junior was lining himself up with Castiel, he could feel the blunt head of Junior’s cock against his hole. 

“No! No! Junior please. Father, don’t let him hurt me. Oh father above me, please, please, send me a soldier of yours, Father, please, send me one of yours to take me from this evil!” Now shaking desperately, “Please deliver me from this evil, my Lord. Please, please, please, please…”

He was so focused on his prayer, he did not notice that Junior’s touch was gone, and the room was quickly filling with smoke...the drugs were taking over his body, making it harder and harder to focus on anything.

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

When Dean had opened the door the closet, he did not expect to witness Cas’s almost-rape. The sound of Cas’s pleas and begging couldn’t be heard from the hallway, but once inside the room, they were loud and desperate. The vamp had pulled Cas’s pants down and bent him over a small, ratty cot. He also had his dick out, ready to full on rape Cas. He watched the vamp spit on him and get ready to take him. The sight had caused him to freeze, unable to move for a couple seconds as he registered what he was witnessing. But then, Cas started praying. 

Dean found himself standing in front of the vamp’s head, bloody blade in hand.

Cas kept praying, more sobbing, really. His words becoming more and more slurred, and Dean realized that he was drugged. The bastard - the coward - must’ve drugged Cas. 

⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫☽☾⧪☽☾⧫

Castiel felt tugging and pulling on his chained hands, which he had clasped together in prayer. Fear still riding him, he tried to pull his hands away. He felt something grab his arm, and he realized that he had closed his eyes, because he had turned in the direction of the intrusion, but couldn’t see anything but darkness in front of him. 

When he finally got his eyes to open, he found himself staring up at a giant masked figure holding his chained hands. 

Dean tried to get the chains off, but Cas kept pulling his hands back.

“Stop it, I’m trying to get them off of you.”

All Castiel heard was a muffled sound coming from behind the mask. He pulled his hands back again, this time dislodging the chain from the stranger’s hands. He managed to kick himself backwards, away from the figure as much as he could, stopping short when he bumps into something on the floor. Looking over, he recognized the shape of Junior’s decapitated body. 

This...Junior...alright, Junior has no head anymore...this means something...uh what does that mean? Focus! this means something. Castiel stared at Junior’s dead body knowing that a decapitated vamp means something, but he couldn’t connect the two...the stranger and the dead vamp. While his fuzzy brain was trying to figure it out, the stranger had completely unbound Castiel. 

The stranger pulled Castiel up by his arm, and Castiel let himself be manhandled into a standing position. It hurt, but now he was standing and wearing his pants? Yes, now the stranger was buttoning his pants, but they are still slipping down. 

It turns out, Castiel is not actually standing as much as he is vertically lying on top of the stranger. He tried to stand on his own, but nearly collapsed right away. 

All of a sudden, he was in the air. 

“Woah...” The smoke around him was burning his lungs and throat something terrible, but he couldn’t really focus on it. 

Dean carried Castiel, fireman style, until he got to the stairs of the basement and had to put him down, since the ceiling was too low to carry him the rest of the way, and the stairwell was too narrow for Castiel and Dean to walk side by side upstairs. If it wasn’t so low, Dean would have no problem carrying Castiel the rest of the way, since he weighed about as much as a feather now. 

“Alright, Cas, I need you to help me out here. You really need to walk.”

Castiel realized that the stranger was trying to communicate with him. He stared at him trying to understand what he was saying.

“Dude, come on, it's just one flight of stairs. You can do it. Just one foot in front of the other.” Cas just stared up at him, his blue eyes somehow still bright and electric in the darkness of the unlit, smoke-filled basement. Striking as they were, the blue orbs showed no understanding of what Dean was trying to say, or the usual strength and intensity they typically bear. 

Dean was forced to bodily drag Castiel up the stairs backwards. Once they got on the second level, the smoke became too overwhelming, and Castiel was choking, and coughing, completely unable to breath. Of course, it was just his luck that there would be five vamps waiting for them when they got out of the basement. He killed one, injured another, and the other three knew what was good for them and ran away. 

Dean had to decide between going after them and taking Castiel out to the Impala. It will only take a second. So he gently put Castiel down and ran after the other three vamps. 

Castiel watched as the stranger ran off down the hall. He couldn’t breath, he knew this should scare him, for some reason he couldn’t find it in himself to panic like he did when Paul was shoving his head under water. He kept coughing, and coughing, and coughing, and the world was getting blurry, and bright, and white, and black and dark. Then he heard a familiar voice.

“...I knew it, did anyone listen to me? No, no one ever listens to me.” a pause. “ Johnny? There you are! What are you doing out of your room?”

Now the panic set in. Castiel looked up from his spot on the ground to see Paul standing over him, something over his nose and mouth. A rag? 

The panic and fear sent adrenaline coursing through Castiel’s body, sobering him a bit from his drug-induced trance. He still couldn’t move anything. His body was still paralyzed, but his mind was quickly racing back to normal capacity. 

“Johnny, you are being a bad boy. Why’d you leave your room?” Paul walked over to Castiel and kneeled down, pulling Castiel up onto his lap. “Johnny?” He shook Castiel, and Castiel moved but did not react.

“Johnny…” Paul pulled Castiel closer, and took the rag off of his face. 

He then leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Castiel’s. Castiel really couldn’t understand what he was doing. But it didn’t hurt, really, it actually felt somewhat good. Then, a moment later, Paul ripped his face away from Castiel’s, rage written all over his features. 

“What the fuck?” His twisted, angry features waited for Castiel’s answer. “Where’d you get bear meat soup from? Junior. JUNIOR!”

Paul’s voice roared through the house, and for a second, everything seemed to stop. 

Paul slapped Castiel, “How could you let him do that to you fucking whore? Disgusting. What’s wrong with you?” He slapped Castiel again. “You know why your name is Johnny, you piece of shit? ‘Cuz you remind me of my little brother Johnny. He and I were very close, and sometimes, I would take him out in my father’s barn and show him. I would take him there, and if he was a good boy, I would show him how much I love him, and if he was being a bad boy, I’d show him some discipline. He was MY brother. Mine. No one could touch him, and I told him that, ‘Johnny, you’re mine. Don’t you let nobody get to you, and don’t you leave me, Johnny. You’re mine.’ and one time, he got it in his stupid little head to go fallin’ in bed with some girl. Daisy, from next door. I had to discipline him. I had to discipline ‘em both. Punish ‘em for what they did to me. I drowned her, drowned her in the bathtub. An’ then I burned Johnny. I burned him so he couldn’t leave me, so he could be mine. After that, I had to lock him in the cellar, but he kept runnin’ off. So I- I put him in that oven down ‘re and I lit him up...he’s still there now. That’s where yer goin’ too. For goin’ with Junior an’ ‘en tryin’ to leave. Tryin’ to leave me.” 

Paul stood up, and pulled Castiel up with him, pulling him so that he would lean on Paul while he dragged him down towards what Castiel assumed was the cellar. The terror was palpable. Castiel could practically taste his fear. 

“You know, he was like you. All innocent-like, and trustin’. Used to love the stars and sky too, jus’ like you.” 

Castiel was dragged another few feet when Paul suddenly stopped. Castiel heard a muffled voice call out, he couldn’t make out what it was saying. 

“Cas!” 

Paul turned around, and pulled Castiel up on his chest, one arm holding his chest, the other on his forehead.

“Come any closer and i’ll snap his neck.”

The stranger was now in Castiel’s line of sight, still with the scary thing on his face. 

Dean stood in front of the vamp, he noticed that Castiel was now suffering a bloody split lip, and bloody nose. 

“Let him go, and I’ll let you go.” 

“What was that?” The vamp asked, straining to hear. 

Dean pulled off the mask and repeated himself. 

Cas jerked at the sound of his voice, crying out in the space between them, “Dean!” it was a broken and weak sound; a wheeze in itself. But it was a sound nonetheless, and it meant that Dean was not trying to bargain with a vamp over a dead body. 

Castiel wished he could run, get away, fight, anything to escape. He finally understood the importance of Junior’s being decapitated, that meant there were hunters here to kill all the vamps. It meant that he could escape. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, it scared him, and he realized that he was smiling. 

Dean put the mask back on, since the air was full full of smoke, it was almost impossible to breath. Shit, I need to get Cas out of here and fast. Castiel was still coughing and struggling to breathe in Paul’s arms, so that means that Dean can still save him. He started walking slowly towards Castiel and the vamp. 

“Stop it! Or I swear to god, he will never walk again.”

Dean stopped in his tracks and tried to think fast, but a vamp came running down the hall, and he ran directly into Paul, making him crash to the ground with Cas. Dean quickly ganked them both, his blade lightning fast. 

Dean put the oxygen mask over Castiel’s face, and finally, he could breathe again. He was still choking somewhat, but most of the struggle was gone. 

Dean waited a minute for Castiel to catch his breath, both of them near the floor avoiding the smoke above.

Luckily, Castiel had only taken three sips of the soup before the blast startled him into tossing the bowl on the floor, so he is starting to sober up from the drugs. He stood up, still mostly leaning on Dean for help, and they slowly making their way towards the nearest exit, Dean holding the mask up to Castiel’s face. As they neared it, they passed the farmhouse main staircase, and Dean heard the sounds of a fight up there. As he passed it and continued towards the door, he heard Sam shout. 

In less then a second, Dean had propped Castiel up against a wall, and was running up the stairs, blade in hand. Castiel stood against the wall for a moment, before sliding down in a coughing fit. He saw blood in his hands.

Dean got to the landing, with the mask fitted back over his head. He instantly ran inside the room, where saw most of the fight was taking place. It was a large bedroom with two beds. Sam was standing in the middle of the two beds, mask off, surrounded by vamps on every side. He was holding up well, and he didn’t seem like he was injured at all. Dean jumped in and helped out. They eventually got all seven of the fuckers down.

“You alright?”

“What?” 

Dean pulled the mask up and repeated, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. How many did you get?”

“So far, not counting these, I got twenty five.”

“I got thirty. So there are only fifteen left.” 

“Why aren’t you wearing the mask?”

“There’s not as much smoke in these roo-”

“Still you have to keep it on, the air is biohazardous, and smoke rises, so these rooms are gonna fill up soon. Most people who die in a fire fire from smoke-inhalation, not-”

“Alright, alright, jeez!”

“Don’t take it off anymore!”

“Alright! I get it!”

“You better...where’s Jen?”

Sam nodded his head towards a door, he walked over to it, and unlocked it. Jen ran out of what turned out to be a closet, kicking and punching at whatever came her way, which turned out to be Sam. 

He grabbed her arm and shook her hard, “Stop it. I’m two seconds from chopping your head off.”

She stopped fighting after that, she pulled the mask up to say, “Sorry, I thought you were a vamp.”

Dean could tell by the rise and fall of Sam’s shoulders that he was sighing in exasperation and probably shooting an impressive bitch face. 

They split up, and Dean decides to head down towards the basement to finish off whatever vamps he found there. Sam was to finish off the upstairs. Dean headed down the stairs, while Sam headed down the hall. 

Cas was not where Dean had left him when he got back from helping Sam out. Dean decided to thoroughly check the first floor before moving on to the upstairs. 

He passed the living room and bathroom, but all he saw were dead vamps. As he passed by the dining room, he heard voices. 

“...Shit, they got everybody.” a deep voice said.

A voice replied “You think it's safe in the forest?”

“Naw, man, they’re probably more waiting outside. They probably got backup from that other older hunter.” Deep voice replied. 

“Shit. what’re we gonna do?” someone else interjected. 

“We can play dead?”

“I’m sorry Lynette, but it's kinda hard to pretend your head is not on your shoulders.”

“Clearly, her’s aint.”

“This ain’t funny ya’ll, we’re about to die.” Lynette protested. 

“Well, there ain’t nothin’ we can do about that, now is there.” A new voice said, matter-of-factly. 

“What if we got out there, and then, just ran, you know, scatter?”

“They’ve got an M24 in there, could pick you off a mile away.” answered the new voice. 

“Well...what about we cover ourselves in bodies and...walk out?”

“They’ve got ‘em grenades, smoke bombs filled with sage and shit.”

Dean had heard enough. He was going to have to kill Castiel if he ever saw him again. He had told them everything. Every weapon they owned, their backup plans, their fighting styles. No wonder most of them were fighting back so well, and seemed so prepared for their attack. 

Dean walked into the dining room, seeing red. He attacked, and right away, got two vamp’s heads off. As he went to cut a third’s head, he blocked him with a blade of his own. His movements had been slowed down by the deadman’s blood, but he obviously had trained. 

Dean had noticed earlier that a group of the vamps had machetes with them. Some of them tried to fight him off with them, but it was almost useless with the way the dead man's blood affected them. It is clear now that Cas must’ve told them about the machete’s they used, but since he doesn’t know about their plan to fill up the house with deadman’s blood, they hadn’t been prepared for it, and the machetes became useless. 

As Dean fought this third vamp, another jumped on his shoulders, attempting to bite at Dean’s jugular. Dean ran backwards as hard as he could into the nearest wall in an attempt to dislodge the fourth vamp. All it did was keep the vamp’s teeth away from his neck for another couple of seconds. A couple seconds is all Dean needs. 

The third vamp jumped at Dean, trying to shove his blade into Dean’s gut. Dean easily blocked it and cut off the third vamp’s arm. His screams filled the dining room, and his pain and panic gave Dean enough time to slice right through his carotid artery. Unfortunately, the blade missed the vamp’s spine by a long shot. The vamp was spraying blood everywhere. This entire time, the fourth vamp has been trying to rip the mask off of Dean’s face, since it was the only thing preventing him from ripping into Dean’s neck. 

Suddenly, the fourth vamp’s body went still, and the feeling of warm blood soaking Dean’s clothes covered his left shoulder and neck, and continued down his back. Dean shrugged the limp vamp off of his shoulder, and turned around, expecting to see Sam with a machete in front of him. Instead, he is surprised to Cas, bearing a bloody butcher knife, holding what looked like a wet rag over his face. He felt the red rage come back as he remembered how Castiel had ratted them out so thoroughly to the vamps. 

“Dean?”

Dean ignored his words and simply grabbed his arm. Dean dragged him out of the house and into the night, where the impala was waiting. 

“Dean, wait. Dean!”

As they approached the Impala, Cas pushed at Dean, and tried to pull his arm away. Dean’s reaction was instant. 

One half of Castiel’s face was covered with mud, and the other was stinging from Dean’s slap. Castiel tried to pull himself up from the ground as he realized it was raining. He still couldn’t see the sky. Rough hands grabbed his arm again and pulled him to his feet, dragging him towards the car again. 

As they approached the car, Castiel looked up to see that Dean had once again pulled off his mask, “Shit. You’re gonna track mud into the car. Sam?” Dean pulled open the passenger side door, and looked inside, his expression becoming panicked when the seat appeared empty. 

Wide eyes looked all over the car, into the backseat and driver’s seat, searching for Sam. “He should be here by now…” Dean turned towards the direction of the farmhouse and yelled, “Sam?”

When he received no answer, he spun around to look at Castiel.

“You stay here, you understand? Don’t fucking move from this spot. Do you understand?” When Castiel didn’t answer, he growled angrily at Castiel, and shook his arm, roaring, “Answer me!”

“Yes, sir!” Wide, blue eyes stared up fearfully at Dean. 

Dean’s shoulders fell a bit as he tried to understand what just happened. No time. Sam needs my help. Dean turned and ran towards the farmhouse. In a minute, he was up the stairs where he had last seen Sam. 

“SAM!”

Dean called Sam’s name a few times, but hadn't gotten any responses. He walked down the hall, searching for his brother, and heard the sound of glass shattering in one of the rooms. When he got there, he saw a figure jumping out of a window in the room. The curtains whipped around as the stormy wind and rain blew into the room. Dean saw a figure sprawled out on the floor near a bed. He quickly recognized his little brother. 

“Sam!”

He dashed over and felt for wounds. Sam’s back had four deep gashes, all bleeding out. Dean realized that whoever, or whatever, caused the wounds may have nicked an artery, or vein. Sam might be bleeding out right now. Shit. shit. Shit. shit.

“It ok, Sammy, you’re gonna be alright.”

He pulled Sam’s arm over his shoulder, and started lifting him up, walking him out the door. He saw that Sam was holding something in his hand, his phone. It was on the final detonator, the one which was to blow the entire property down, if the need came up. He pulled it out of his hand, wondering why Sam would blow up the building while he is still inside. Dean tried not to think about the implications of the situation, and continued to carry Sam out. 

As they got down the stairs, Dean heard Sam groan softly.

“It’s ok, Sammy. Everything’s gonna be alright. Just a few more steps…”

A few minutes later, the impala was in their sights. Cas was still standing in front of the passenger door, right where Dean had left him. 

“Open...Open the door!” Dean gasped out, practically ripping the mask off of his face. Cas scrambled to open the passenger door, but that won’t do right now, right now, Sam needs the backseat. “Open the back door, dumbass!” 

“Oh!”

Cas quickly switched to pulling open the back door, and Dean gently laid Sam down into the Impala’s backseat. It quickly became soaked with blood. 

“Shit, he’s bleeding out. Get in the car, don’t just stand there!” Cas quickly got into the passenger seat. 

“Wait! Get into the back.” Cas got back out and started getting into the back, and Dean pulled off the oxygen tank, and then his shirt. 

Cas struggled to lift Sam up enough to get under him, Dean pushed past him, and lifted Sam’s torso up, like it weighed nothing, and waited for Castiel to settle into the seat beneath him. Castiel climbed in and sat with his back to the door, nearest to Sam’s head.

“Spread your legs.”

Castiel froze, his heart rate accelerating rapidly as another voice repeated the same phrase over and over in Castiel’s head.

“Spread your legs, god damn it!”

The sudden angry growl of Dean’s voice snapped Castiel into obedience. He spread his legs across the back seat of the impala, one on the floor and the other propped up on the seat. Dean gently laid Sam back down, with his head resting on Castiel’s chest and his shoulders on Castiel’s stomach. He turned Sam over until his bloody right shoulder and back were up where Castiel could see them, and the uninjured shoulder against the backseat.

Dean then held out his abandoned shirt to Cas, saying, “Hold this to his wounds to slow down the bleeding.” As Cas reached out to take the shirt, Dean grabbed his wrist. Castiel winced, feeling Dean’s fingers squeeze the infected wounds there. 

“And don’t get any ideas. If you hurt him, Cas, anymore than you already have, I will never stop hurting you. I will torture you until you fucking die, you understand?”

Castiel gulped and rasped out softly, “Yes, sir.”

Dean slammed the door of the impala shut against Castiel’s back and walked around the side of the car to get into the driver’s seat. Starting the car, he headed out from behind the trees. With Sam’s phone in hand, he touched the ‘enter’ button on the screen, and the phone vibrated softly, sending a jolt through his arm. A loud explosion was heard as the entire farmhouse collapsed.

The gravel driveway of the farmhouse gave way to smooth pavement, and they were back on the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand it's a cliffhanger. Keep an eye out for chapter 1 of Devil's Lake ;)
> 
> Comments and kudos are a surefire way to make us write and edit faster!
> 
> Love you all!


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